EDITOR’S NOTE
DURING THE “reorganize the entire house” phase of the lockdown, I discovered an old diary of mine from my early 20s. I sat down to read it, alternately shaking my head in disbelief and chuckling at the overwrought entries, each compounded with so much frustration that the drama leaped off the page like a Jane Austen novel—minus the eloquence.
Let me share a few gems: “My age and lack of success bother me a lot. I feel like I’ve missed my chance to make it.” I was...23. Followed by “I’m scared that I’m going to end up like the other old people trying to break through.” I was...ignorant. I took everything personally and was vexed when I had to change my plans or didn’t get the “closure” I felt I was owed. My unyielding expectation that everything should happen just the way I wanted it to was, as Emma Woodhouse would say, pure foolishness and folly.
It took me years—and many, many diaries—to be able to sit with the realization that much of the world exists beyond the scope of our control. So I smiled when I read actor Jodie Turner-Smith’s words about how she embraces uncertainty in “Queen of Change” (page 36). “It’s easier to think about things that should be wrapped in a little bow and have an answer,” she said. “I don’t feel averse to dealing in the ambiguous, though. I’m not afraid of the fact that everything is not concrete.”
If this year has reminded us of anything, it’s that we must accept the discomfort that comes with embracing perpetual change. It’s hard. But it’s better for the mind, body and spirit to accept that the way things used to be is dead—and new possibilities are born every moment. I’m still trying to apply that knowledge wholly to my present—to have trust and optimism that things will work out in the end, no matter how many plans lie broken. As Jane Austen wrote, “How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!”