Wednesday, September 12, 2007 at 1:01am
Steering by a star
Column: New Houses from Old Bricks
Now that fall has begun, high school and college seniors are fielding the question: "What will you do after you graduate?" Some have a plan, or at least a direction. Others have dreams. And some, of course, are clueless.
In transitions, most of us encounter similar questions at some point and have to face a deeper one: On your life's journey, how do you find your direction? And how do you stay on course in the midst of life's twists and turns?
Some focus on a destination. Some look for a map. Others find a star to steer by. Many have found insight in this phrase.
The last, I think, is the most dependable for navigating such an unpredictable journey. A star to steer by isn't a destination so much as something — a dream, an ideal, a mentor, a story — by which you can check if you're headed in the right direction. It provides enough guidance to steer one's choices, and also enough flexibility to accommodate life's changing circumstances.
One of my dependable "stars to steer by" was a mentor I met as a college freshman. I signed up for a volunteer opportunity and met Rani, director of the Outreach community service program. Having just graduated from the college, she was quite young herself, but she seemed unattainably worldly and wise to me. In addition to having "the coolest job ever," she lived in a funky farmhouse with a few friends and played in a bluegrass band in the creaky old coffee shops and bookstores in the New England countryside around Amherst.
I admired Rani and wanted to be like her, but her life didn't become a "destination" for me. I knew I wasn't headed for fiddling in a bluegrass band, and I probably wasn't going to administer a college service program, either. It was something else about her life that I admired — the quality of it, the texture, the joy and friendship, beauty and compassion that I saw and imagined. It wasn't what she did, it was how she did it. It was who she was, no matter what she was doing. It was what I'd now call "the way she lived her vocation."
When some Outreach friends and I went to hear her band play at the coffeehouses, I would drift on the music and wonder if and how my life could be like that. Then I would try to navigate my decisions in a way that might give me a version of that life.
Of course, it wasn't Rani herself that I steered by, but my perceptions of her. After all, it's rare to see people truly as they are. We don't even see them as we wish they were. With some people, we see them as we wish we were. No doubt, Rani had her own insecurities and weaknesses and regrets. But what I perceived was a shining example of what I hoped to find in myself and in my own life.
Once you've set a course, how do you hold it, when life threatens to throw you off? There's always a chance to steer by a new star. But sometimes you can still get your bearings from the same one.
When they've played on the West Coast in recent years, I've gone to hear Rani Arbo & Daisy Mayhem perform a few times. Those have been blessed opportunities, not only to see an old friend and hear great music, but also to get my bearings again from that star. Actually, now I get my bearings from the 18-year-old in me who, with the right musical cues, can still hear the creaky floorboards and taste the hot chocolate of a New England coffee shop. While I still admire Rani and others whose lives I "steer by," I get many of my bearings from myself now — a younger version of me.
That's one way I check in periodically with my dreams and ideals, which back then were as passionately-held as they were vague. (Not all are still relevant, but many are — joy and compassion never go out of style.) Can I recognize those dreams in the quality of my present life? Have my responses to circumstances left room for joy and friendship? Have the choices I've been making led to beauty and compassion? Am I living my vocation the best I can?
Those can be painful questions for those who feel they have veered off course. Often they're too painful to ask at all; better to "stay the course," the thinking goes, even if you're headed in the wrong direction. But actually, having a star to steer by offers a great hope: the possibility of "course correction" on which navigation depends. It is never too late to shift direction, and a little change can make a huge difference in where you end up.
A star to steer by comes in handy especially when a plan blows up, a direction leads to a dead-end, or a destination turns out to be the wrong one. I remember taking my new husband to hear Rani and Daisy Mayhem some years ago, confident that my superb navigation had brought me to my destination. Shortly after my divorce, I went to hear them again alone, with less confidence but with more hope that my "stars" were slowly getting me back on course.
This is my prayer for seniors and anyone facing navigational challenges: that a star to steer by can provide not only direction, but also hope.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.
In transitions, most of us encounter similar questions at some point and have to face a deeper one: On your life's journey, how do you find your direction? And how do you stay on course in the midst of life's twists and turns?
Some focus on a destination. Some look for a map. Others find a star to steer by. Many have found insight in this phrase.
The last, I think, is the most dependable for navigating such an unpredictable journey. A star to steer by isn't a destination so much as something — a dream, an ideal, a mentor, a story — by which you can check if you're headed in the right direction. It provides enough guidance to steer one's choices, and also enough flexibility to accommodate life's changing circumstances.
One of my dependable "stars to steer by" was a mentor I met as a college freshman. I signed up for a volunteer opportunity and met Rani, director of the Outreach community service program. Having just graduated from the college, she was quite young herself, but she seemed unattainably worldly and wise to me. In addition to having "the coolest job ever," she lived in a funky farmhouse with a few friends and played in a bluegrass band in the creaky old coffee shops and bookstores in the New England countryside around Amherst.
I admired Rani and wanted to be like her, but her life didn't become a "destination" for me. I knew I wasn't headed for fiddling in a bluegrass band, and I probably wasn't going to administer a college service program, either. It was something else about her life that I admired — the quality of it, the texture, the joy and friendship, beauty and compassion that I saw and imagined. It wasn't what she did, it was how she did it. It was who she was, no matter what she was doing. It was what I'd now call "the way she lived her vocation."
When some Outreach friends and I went to hear her band play at the coffeehouses, I would drift on the music and wonder if and how my life could be like that. Then I would try to navigate my decisions in a way that might give me a version of that life.
Of course, it wasn't Rani herself that I steered by, but my perceptions of her. After all, it's rare to see people truly as they are. We don't even see them as we wish they were. With some people, we see them as we wish we were. No doubt, Rani had her own insecurities and weaknesses and regrets. But what I perceived was a shining example of what I hoped to find in myself and in my own life.
Once you've set a course, how do you hold it, when life threatens to throw you off? There's always a chance to steer by a new star. But sometimes you can still get your bearings from the same one.
When they've played on the West Coast in recent years, I've gone to hear Rani Arbo & Daisy Mayhem perform a few times. Those have been blessed opportunities, not only to see an old friend and hear great music, but also to get my bearings again from that star. Actually, now I get my bearings from the 18-year-old in me who, with the right musical cues, can still hear the creaky floorboards and taste the hot chocolate of a New England coffee shop. While I still admire Rani and others whose lives I "steer by," I get many of my bearings from myself now — a younger version of me.
That's one way I check in periodically with my dreams and ideals, which back then were as passionately-held as they were vague. (Not all are still relevant, but many are — joy and compassion never go out of style.) Can I recognize those dreams in the quality of my present life? Have my responses to circumstances left room for joy and friendship? Have the choices I've been making led to beauty and compassion? Am I living my vocation the best I can?
Those can be painful questions for those who feel they have veered off course. Often they're too painful to ask at all; better to "stay the course," the thinking goes, even if you're headed in the wrong direction. But actually, having a star to steer by offers a great hope: the possibility of "course correction" on which navigation depends. It is never too late to shift direction, and a little change can make a huge difference in where you end up.
A star to steer by comes in handy especially when a plan blows up, a direction leads to a dead-end, or a destination turns out to be the wrong one. I remember taking my new husband to hear Rani and Daisy Mayhem some years ago, confident that my superb navigation had brought me to my destination. Shortly after my divorce, I went to hear them again alone, with less confidence but with more hope that my "stars" were slowly getting me back on course.
This is my prayer for seniors and anyone facing navigational challenges: that a star to steer by can provide not only direction, but also hope.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.