Thank You, Monty Python: Reflections on the Last Decade

(Note: I am aware that, since there was never a “year 0”, decades *technically* run 1-10 – as in, 2011-2020. But, since I’ve never heard someone consider “1950” as being part of the 40s, or “1990” not being the start of the 90s, I’m counting the last decade as “all the years with ‘1’ as the third number”. 2010-2019. The end.)

The past ten years have included neither the meteoric rise nor the neat, orderly, swift progression of events I would have preferred. Still, they have been full. 

Practically speaking:

~ I traveled to England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland, and back again – more than once.
~ I was present for the start – and had the privilege of contributing to the growth – of a theatre group and a school.
~ I acted, directed, sang, danced, and played the piano. I even got paid for some of it.
~ I got paid to teach people to do some of the things I love doing.
~ I discovered a passion for mentoring young women, especially through writing and stories, and got to do lots of it.
~ I discovered I like editing and took steps to make that part of my career.
~ I moved several times, including a total life-uprooting move from North Carolina to New York.
~ I launched “R. A. Nelson” as a business and published books. (Still waiting on the “successful, lucrative business” aspect of this career move.)

Emotionally speaking:

~ I made some new friends and learned how to cultivate old friendships better.
~ I watched helplessly as some of the people I love best in the world walked through unspeakable pain, and tried to learn how to “suffer with” them – even when I couldn’t do a single bloody thing to end the suffering.
~ I walked through my own pain and watched humbly as people came alongside me, over and over, to “suffer with” me – and even help me turn the pain into song.
~ I had the joyful honor of participating in the weddings/births/happy-life-changing-events of friends and family members.
~ I had the heavy honor of singing and speaking at the funeral of a sweet friend, younger than I and gone too soon. (Love you, Anna Banana.)
~ I became wary of the “easy answer” and found a new determination to examine important matters from every angle, even and especially when such examination makes me uncomfortable.
~ I learned to value silence and solitude and tried to make space for them in my life.
~ I tried to open myself – especially my faith – to being broken down and rebuilt daily.
~ I tried to learn how to find my worth in the fact that I am loved, not in what I do or achieve or produce.
~ I met a man who was running in the same direction I was, but even faster, and who was willing to do the hard work of learning to run together.
~ I learned what “learning to run together” actually IS.
~ I entered into the sacrament of marriage with this man and spent the latter half of the decade taking our “running together” to the next level. (Still going.)

As I reflect on all of these events, the prevailing theme is GROWTH. 

The pain became a lesson in compassion.
The moves – of both career and home – became lessons in cultivating peace amidst stress.
The joy became a lesson in gratitude.

If I could condense the last decade into an image: the 20-teens taught me that growth does NOT look like George Meredith’s “Lark Ascending”, “ever winging up and up”.

Not even close.

GROWTH is more like a swallow trying to carry a coconut.

And, as any Monty Python fan will tell you, a swallow CANNOT carry a coconut – unless it works together with other swallows.

So bring it on, 20-twenties.

My fellow swallows and I have a fresh ball of twine and are ready to carry this coconut as high – and as far – as we can.

To get us all in the mood, here’s a “new-decade thoughts” poem I wrote while traveling home on a train after a delightful Christmas holiday in Montréal.

’Tis called, creatively, “Thoughts on a Train Hurtling Homewards”.