Let me share an experience with you. But first you must wade through background information. The Saturday after graduation (April 26th) my housing contract expired, meaning that I moved out of my apartment into...a storage unit. No I'm not living in a storage unit, but all my stuff is. I remain homeless, living on roll-away beds and couches. I am waiting to hear about future employment, floating around the world, living a life of simplicity. I don't really worry about too much, just hanging out in limbo for a time. I've played my hand, so now it's life's turn. I can't really continue playing with her holding up the flow of the game.
But what I can do is swing. Monday afternoon, having dropped my mother off at the airport and waiting for my dear friend to be ready to go get lunch, I stopped at the local park and commenced swinging on the swings. Swinging is one of the few things in life that I hate. It is also one of the many things in life that I love. The first few moments are terrible. The rest are wonderful. For clarification, I hate back and forth motion, such as the type that can be found at amusement parks on swinging ships and in parks on swings.
Now, as I was swinging, the sun was shining, my legs were pumping, and I was reveling in the simple freedom of just swinging. Yes, reliving my childhood brings me great joy (Legos, swings, reading for days on end, walking uphill both ways in two feet of snow, etc.). Then, one of the craziest Utah things happen. There, in the middle of the sun and my childlike freedom, it began to snow. Not sticking to the ground, but dark cloud and flurries and flakes. A different type of human being (sane, stable, normalish) would have called it a day and returned to their home. Seeing as how I have no home, am not normalish, and refuse to bow to Mother Nature's fury, I continued swinging. And then, about ten minutes later, it stopped snowing. The sun, which had never stopped shining, shined brighter. The dark cloud completely vanished. And I continued swinging.
Did this actually happen? Yes. Is it a metaphor? Yes. It is also, surprisingly enough, not hyperbolated at all. If I had replaced myself with an animal it could have also been read as a fable. If I included more fish it could have been a parable. Or is it already a parable? What's a parable if not an extended extended metaphor? Is this an extended metaphor? What is the symbolism? How would I stage this? What is my concept as director? All valid questions.
But what I thought was this: you just gotta keep on doing your thing. Onwards and upwards, as Aslan says. You never reach the summit if you turn around and go back down, or if you try climbing while looking back over your shoulder. As I sat there, swinging in the snow and in the sun, the stresses and tension that I have long carried with me and which intensified throughout last week melted away. Is my future uncertain? Yes. Can I live with that? Yes. Will I end up where and when I need to be? I am confident that the answer is yes.
Should you go swing on your nearest swing set? Yes.
