HENSLOWE: Strangely enough, it all turns out well.
FENNYMAN: How?
HENSLOWE: I don't know. It's a mystery.
~ from Shakespeare in Love by Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard
What would you go back and tell your 21-year-old self?
Or, said another, equally time-traveling way, what would your Older Self tell You right now?
Julia Louis-Dreyfus asks the first version of this question to everyone on her Wiser Than Me podcast. Most of the time the answer is something like “be yourself,” “don’t worry so much,” “trust yourself,” “be grateful for your people, the world and your life,” “discomfort isn’t necessarily bad,” and “things don’t go as planned...and that’s ok.”
Which, you know, is all generally good advice. Thanks, Older Self. But frankly these days, I could really use more specifics.
I’ve always wondered how much courage I would have had if I was alive when evil reigned. I think about the people in the past who resisted, fought bravely, and did the right, not easy, things. Would I have hidden Jews in the attic or faced dogs and fire hoses? Would I have walked with Gandhi or worked for Mandela’s release?
All valid values questions, for sure. But in those historic situations, it seemed to me that what to do was obvious. The question wouldn’t be what to do but rather if I would do it.
Turns out it’s both.
I thought it would be clear what needed to be done when dark forces descend. And dammit, it’s just not the case. Which sucks.
Maybe.
The gorgeous and heart cracking film, My Old Ass, illustrates that sometimes the advice from the Older Self to the Younger Self is wise and sometimes it isn’t. In every moment, there are countless things we could do or not.
Y’all, it’s so good. Please watch it. And if you have already let’s talk about it.
Avoiding all bad things, even if it was possible, isn’t necessarily a good idea. Who’s to say that calamity or heartbreak or fear isn’t what made some powerful things possible? Maybe that first marriage that only lasted a couple of years was part of the reason your second one went so much better. Maybe breaking your foot made you a better teacher and a more empathetic person. Maybe that terrifying political sh*t show gave you a reason to show up and stretch yourself like you hadn’t before. Who’s to say?
When the world spirals into darkness, it’s worth asking both what can be done and will I do it. In that way, maybe those Older Self platitudes are worth considering more fully. Because even though they aren’t specific, they do offer direction in darkness, counsel amidst chaos.
In Shakespeare in Love, Henslowe says of owning a theater, “the natural condition is one of unsurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster.” And that, of course, is also the natural condition of being human. Knowing what to do follows from knowing your values, knowing yourself and choosing if from there.
I sometimes imagine sitting with my Older Self and asking her what she’s glad she/we did during difficult times. She always kindly pats my hand and slides me a hot cup of tea across the oak coffee table.
“I’m glad that you chose to be yourself,” she says. “And that you didn’t worry all the time. (we both laugh) I’m glad that you trusted yourself and were grateful for who and what you had. You knew that discomfort wasn’t necessarily bad and that it was ok when things didn’t go as planned. In difficult circumstances, you tried to help those who needed it. You did your best, you did all you could do as only you could do it. That’s what mattered then. It’s all the ever did.”
I keep going back to ask her and she keeps saying roughly the same thing. Turns out those are the words I need to sort out what to do and if I’ll do it.