It Might be Greener, but You Still Have to Water It

The human animal is never satisfied.

I’m certainly not. I live in a constant whirlwind of conditionals; ‘if/thens’, if you like. If this happens/I have this thing/I follow this path, then this other thing will happen/my life will be easier/I will be successful. To a certain degree this is a very sound thought process — no one can deny cause and effect. But unlike physics, where the effect is predictable, there is an unbelievable amount of gray area governing the outcome of any human ‘ifs’. It is always possible that the actual endgame will be vastly different from what was originally desired, and ultimately this may or may not work out to the benefit of the desirer. If it does, then it is chalked up in the metaphorical win column.

See? Even in conditionals there are conditionals. Talk about a Carrollian Caucus Race...

The thing about conditionals, at least for me, is that they are stepping stones across the murky pond of life towards the far more interesting and satisfying portion of the garden ‘over there’. You know, the spot where there’s a lovely giant horse chestnut tree with a delightful swing hanging off one branch, and the flowers grow in wild, colorful, fragrant clusters, and the temperature is always perfect, and the water in the pond on that side is clear and you can watch the fish and the frogs and the turtles and the dragonflies and smell the water lilies and I don’t know, maybe there’s a talking bunny rabbit who is your BFF. Whatever that place looks like to you, insert it here, or simply substitute the old adage, “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.”

Because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Getting somewhere that isn’t where we are. Getting somewhere better. The trouble is, we seem to be ingrained with a degree of ‘magical thinking’ — we think of the ‘then’ as the end, the pinnacle, the pastures of Heaven.

Reality check, kids. The Elysian Fields it ain’t.

You’re not going to get there and have everything freeze in perfection. That’s not how life works. “The only thing constant is change,” after all. Just when you think all your waterfowl are queued appropriately enough for you to be able to take a breath and relax, there’s a flight of very angry swans who show up out of nowhere and off you go again, shooing reluctant mallards back into some semblance of order. (Side note: Swans are evil and will kill you in cold blood for sport. Be vigilant!) There’s always a setback. There’s always something more that could make things better, because the last thing apparently wasn’t, in fact, the last thing.

There’s always another step towards the garden.

Let’s unpack a few of mine, just for funsies.

“Once I buy my condo, everything will settle down into a manageable pattern. I’ll get to set my life schedule and keep it how I like, and I certainly won’t ever get tired of looking after myself and my space.” Well, yes, to a degree. I haven’t had to move house in four years, but I have had to deal with all the tribulations that come with true ownership of something. And I got hoodwinked into being on the HOA board, but that’s something else… And as for looking after myself and my space? Pft, that’s a laugh. That lasted all of six months — maybe. Things pile up despite my best intentions. Also, it turns out that I really, really hate cooking.

“In the spirit of ‘if you build it, they will come,’ if I buy everything I could possibly want or need in order to do this thing, I will have no reason not to do it!” I have a giant pile of Prismacolor products just sitting there, begging for my attention. They’re top quality, some of the best you can get, and buying them got me super jazzed for using them… which happens ever so occasionally and certainly not with the frequency I originally intended.

“The beauty of having a nine-to-five job is that I’m making enough money to funnel some of it into my hobbies, and my evenings and weekends are my own so I can fill them with all the things I want to do, like writing about all the stuff that swims around in my half-a-brain!” So I get home, and what happens? My ass hits the sofa and my half-a-brain switches off. It’s full of ideas waiting to be committed to the page — there’s a spy novel brewing up there, and another one about the transience of life, and about a bazillion short stories that could maybe become something bigger and possibly even publishable! Now, if I just got them started...

I am my own worst enemy. Worse than an angry swan. The garden is there for the taking, I just have to do my part to get there. Like grass needs water, I need to nurture whatever it is that I’m doing to get to that level place where everything will calm down and be beautiful forever and ever, amen. I just need to do one more thing, and once that’s done— Oh, there’s another thing after that? Okay, well, after that thing— What? Okay, fine, but after this we’re done, right?

RIGHT?!

...You’ve got to be shitting me.