Thoughts from a Non-Prodigy
Joel and I recently moved into a new loft apartment. This building was built in 1901, making it the oldest standing historic cotton mill in Greenville, SC. I love the tall, wooden ceilings, the exposed brick, and cool, smooth cement floors. But my favorite part of this home is the view. In our living space there is a ten foot tall window that pours natural light into our lives. Every day I find myself distracted, staring out the window, soaking in the beauty.
Since living here I have become increasingly aware of the passing of time. Unexpectedly, this window has become a reminder of how fleeting the daylight is. When I wake up, one of the first things I do is walk to the window, arms wrapped tightly around myself to fend off the subtle but cold draft. In that pale morning light, the day seems so promising and full of potential. I quickly busy myself with office work or painting or cleaning. And before I know it, that pale light has been dominated by the mid-day sun, bright and unapologetic. At this point, all the colors in the world have changed. The brick is hot and orange, the sky is a blazing blue. The cast shadows are deep and cool, biding its time till nightfall. At this point I usually pause again to drink in the entirely new scene.
The window calls me back several times throughout the day, telling me to observe the shape-shifting clouds, the birds that glide from rooftops to wires, the ever changing tree tops, all the way down to the dog park that is frequented by every kind of dog (and the occasional brave squirrel).
But I must say, since moving here, my favorite time of day is sunset. We have a North-East facing window, which means the sun is to our backs when it sets. The final rays of light cast magenta and violet on the distant mountains and hills. The white branches of the trees are filled with flecks of gold. And the neighborhood windows reflect the final daylight with hues of orange and pink. It’s intoxicating to watch. I can barely turn my eyes away from this symphony of color.
And then that moment is gone.
The sun fades away so rapidly, and we are left with a dark and velvety night sky. The city lights a few miles away blink awake, and a few of the brightest stars shine through the light pollution. The night is beautiful here too, just not quite as spectacular. And I am usually left wondering, “where did the day go?” And for an overthinker like me, this thought sparked an internal conversation.
I’ve always been scared of wasting the time that I have. When I think of the passing of time, John Mayer’s “Stop This Train” comes to mind. The lyrics “So scared of getting older, I’m only good at being young,” strikes my heart every time. I’ve recently turned twenty-four, and have struggled to combat the feeling that I am now an old person. I know it's ridiculous, but this belief really has affected my outlook on life. When it comes to working out, I feel like there is no point to it, I’m old now. Or when it comes to my writing I sigh, thinking that ship has already sailed. Or in my artwork, I’ve convinced myself that I will need to be content with settling for less than my dreams, because true talent and potential is discovered by the time you are twenty-two.
Of course, as I am writing this I can’t help but laugh a little. It’s silly to think that it’s “all over” just because I didn’t make it big before I hit my mid-twenties. But I had to ask myself why I had this expectation in the first place. I believe that this mentality comes from our modern culture. Everyone wants to be a prodigy or an internet influencer. Artists especially are put in the spotlight to constantly create content that feeds the algorithms, and this expectation is honestly unfair.
People need time to grow mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically, etc. Growth doesn’t happen overnight, even though somewhere along the way we all convinced ourselves that it should. Even when we say that we are willing to put in the years, I believe there is a part of us hoping to get the results without the cost of precious time. I have definitely bought into this attitude time and time again, slumping into depression because I still feel like I have little to no idea what I am doing. But I think our window has helped me change my perspective.
When I look out our window, I notice how unique every day is. The view from our third-floor apartment has forced me to appreciate how every day is a gift, even if I’m not a Instagram-famous artist by twenty-four. And furthermore, this internal dialogue has cleared space in my heart to accept the passage of time, instead of fighting it.
This view opened my eyes to the fact that my life does not end when I turn thirty. In many ways, it’s only just begun. And life is so unpredictable, who knows what I will learn, or what I will become in the next decade! But for now, if I am not answering my phone, it's safe to assume that I am staring out the window, trying to savoring the moment instead of wishing it away in exchange for quick success.
01/09/2022
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