The unobvious charm of unfinished chapters
I used to be a person who must finish one book before starting another. A movie magazine read from page 1 to 100. A TV show watched from season 1 to however much was broadcast. Not anymore. What happened?
THINK. Before anyone says it - this is not the byproduct of attention consumed by multiple technology streams invading our minds, dozens a minute. Neither is it lack of commitment to see things through. Could this be a simple self-permission to choose, mix, meander and pick up where I left off? More trust in my own ability to spot, extract and carry the important elements?
Did the journey finally begun to matter more than the destination?
I am sat in my lounge room. Sunday evening, all errands checked off, dishes done after early dinner, weather outside... well, skip to the next point. Music is on. The bliss of one of my favourite bands, Tool, played from a vinyl record. The record is a treasure itself, a thoughtful birthday gift from my wife. 10 tracks in 86 minutes, most exceed 10-minute run time. Why does it even matter?
To me, this is a parabola (pun intended!) of a discovery journey. It starts somewhere, goes in loops, comes back to previously explored sounds, slows down, changes pace and tone, goes quiet and restarts. Each note has its place, but it’s the mind of the listener that builds the trail. Aggressive, lyrical, humming, full of rhythm - it contains all the ingredients to overwhelm. I am only adding the magic dust of purpose and attention.
Suddenly, it hits me. Life is a record shop. We can sit quietly in the corner and listen to the same tune all the time. We can frantically swap vinyl discs, in search of something that ideally matches our mood at the moment, even at the risk of sensual indigestion. We can take small steps to explore the closest adjacent genre or take huge leaps into complete novelty. Or we can listen to the same record again, rich and deep, discovering layers we have not noticed before. We get to decide.
FEEL. If there is one area full of unfinished chapters, it is the life of a parent. Ever since they are born, we are constantly browsing pages of handbooks, editing stories, making plans for the entire saga... while being anxious what the next page would bring. We start as narrators and over time, we hope and cheer that they take over as directors and main actors of their lives. If your life was the book, and you were an author, how would you like you story to go?
The best moment of my week came very casually, this morning. Confused by daylight savings clock change, allegedly sleeping an hour longer, we made a spontaneous decision to go out for breakfast. Somewhat tired of everyday routines, we wanted to sit, enjoy food, and share a moment as a family. It ended up in a thousand laughs, discussing travel plans for next summer, Lord of the Ring memes, and definitely getting too much dessert!
Sometimes it is that simple. Every unfinished chapter has its time.
DO. That all being said, so much to do! Work is busy as ever, a pile of books to read gets taller every week, I still have written zero of four chapters of the role-playing game adventure that I kept inventing and improvising for my friends since August. The NBA season have started, and I have not watched a single clip yet.
I was recently thinking a lot about my friendships. A life of an immigrant is peculiar that way. New networks are just being formed, and strength of old networks is heavily tested. While we may think social media and constant messaging are filling all gaps, the true secret lies in quality. Which is why I have a habit of video calling people to check in on them.
I may not speak with some friends for a while, but the seeing their faces, being there through the awkward narrating through the recent events, allowing time to get to deeper thoughts and feelings, reinforces the bond despite the distance. It truly feels like opening the book halfway through a chapter and simply reading on.
