What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"
I move to Brooklyn in fourteen days, and in a way doing so will serve as a nice chapter division in my life story. I can imagine an eighteenth-century style title for it: In Which I Move to New York City and Encounter New Friends and Adventures. But as I tell my students, dividing the lifetimes of people or nations into discrete sections only works in retrospect. It's not like in 1920 the citizens of the Western world immediately started referring to their era as The Jazz Age. That title became widely used later.
It's the same in my life. Sure, this is a big moment that will bring about immense changes; but there have been and will continue to be many, many life-changing moments like these, whether I recognize them or not. Some major changes trace their origins back to tiny variations in a normal day. These moments don't always get chapter titles.
Søren Kierkegaard, a Danish philosopher and an early forerunner of the 20th century Existentialist movement, once wrote a journal reflection on this topic that has stayed with me for over a decade.
"It is really true what philosophy tells us, that life must be understood backwards. But with this, one forgets the second proposition, that it must be lived forwards. ... life at any given moment cannot really ever be fully understood; exactly because there is no single moment where time stops completely in order for me to take position [to do this]: going backwards." [Source]
It doesn't seem fair, does it? That we can only understand which actions and words have the largest impact on our lives long after we have done and said them? My students would certainly complain (justly, in my view!) if I secretly gave a small homework assignment that had the weight of a test in the gradebook.
And yet this is our situation, all of us. Some choices carry their importance openly, like a nation's flag bearers at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. Others hide their significance -- good or bad -- until far, far later.
I move to Brooklyn in fourteen days, and I know this decision will impact the rest of my life.
And --
I stop working for a few moments to give my full attention to a student -
I apologize to a dear friend for acting rudely -
I spend time with family members on important anniversaries -
And I know (I know) that these decisions matter enormously.
Even if they don't get their own chapter titles.
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