Que Sera Sera

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

When we were little, my Mom actually used to sing to us. Actually, she still does. She always has a song in her heart. So does my Dad (although his tone is not quite there, his heart is all in it). When he is happy, he will sing at the top of his lungs and actually skip. Is is so fun to see them two of them when they are in a good mood, which usually involves children, act like children. But as children, and even as adults, we are so obsessed with the future. That old saying 99% of what you worry about never happens, and yet, we still do it. Or at least, I still do it. I find myself worrying more lately than I should. I worry about what the future holds. I worry about where my life is taking me. I worry about whether a meeting or a lesson will go well (well, not really, but I should). I worry more about personal stuff like life and love. But, I try not to, because I can't control it. And funny thing is, when I do try, it kind of unravels a little. When I let go, it comes together. Why must the simple be so complicated? In fact, on a side note, I considered writing about Valentine's day, but nixed that quite quickly when I realized I pretty much hate Valentine's Day. I would say that it is because I am not mushy (in general, I am not). I would say it is because I am cynical (in general, I am). I would say it is because everyone around me is all lovey dovey, which is as annoying as well...anything (cynicism rearing its ugly head again). But, honestly, it is probably because it has been a bit of a disappointment every single year, well, for as long as I can remember. So something simple like Valentine's Day, a day to celebrate love and friendship and the color red and chocolate is suddenly this big flashing "Stop light" (thanks to our ASB for this analogy-really?) of complex meanings. Because I make it that way! Yes, I do! I over analyze and pick everything apart. If you know me at all, you know I do this, and you tell me to stop. This, while making me an excellent giver of logical advice, makes my head spin about simple things like Valentine's Day and complex things like the FUTURE... But, perhaps, there is some truth in the song we all know, because sometimes the living is in the letting go.

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera

What will be, will be
And.... (hit play here)

.

Bricks, Boys and Braveheart

A few years ago when I was teaching World History, I had a student that believed the Iron Curtain was a literal wall of iron between eastern and western Europe. He had such a hard time understanding how this wall could just be a figurative wall, one "built" to separate people, unless it was the Berlin wall, then it was literal. (Then again, this was the kid that could only understand concepts if I could somehow relate them to Braveheart. Problem is I don't remember much of the movie other than he was a Scottish peasant that somehow opposed the King and yelled "Freedom!" as a super significant line in the film). So....I found myself thinking about how we construct these figurative walls around ourselves over the years; we add a layer every time something hurts us, every time someone fails us or disappoints us, or we disappoint ourselves, or life just doesn't turn out the way we expect. Slowly but surely, brick by brick the walls go up, until we have this nice little fortress protecting ourselves from, well, everything. It is nice and pretty and we walk around in this little brick bubble of feelinglessness (yes, I made up that word on purpose). I would say that my wall has been built over the course of about twelve significant breakups. Yup! Count 'em twelve! This is not something I would wish on anyone. This doesn't even count the dates or little flings; these are the ones I cared about and it didn't work for some reason. I find myself rather numb to this number (this is because of the walls). Does time heal wounds? Yeah, but it still sucks, licking your wounds, twelve times over. So the point is I don't even have bricks, I have an iron curtain (so, this is where you should be thinking, is it real, or just a facade). Then the other day I was showing my class the Last Lecture by Randy Pausch a man dying of Pancreatic cancer. He talks about how the brick walls (talking about barriers to our goals) are not there to keep us out like we all think, but to see who wants it the most. I think that while boys have contributed to the building of most of my walls, I hope they can also help bring them down. Learning to open up and learning to trust are both kind of scary. And I began to realize that although my iron curtain was built to protect me, it also has become my crutch. It is all of the above. It is both real and a facade. It keeps them out and keeps me in. It is the barrier to my end goal of becoming open and real and letting down my guard, a little, just enough to let myself breathe and maybe, just maybe, "Freedom", like Braveheart.

Pic. Berlin Wall. 2010.