Haphazard Beauty
When I started writing this post, I was certain that someone famous had said something famous about life being like a mosaic, with all the different colors and materials coming together to create a beautiful piece of art that might not make sense when you look at just the individual pieces but, when you look at them altogether, come together in a way that couldn't make sense without each individual piece exactly where it was.
Unfortunately, I googled it, and there is no quote like that...but the made up quote is what a lot of my most recent pondering has been based on, so, I'm going to continue this post as though there were such a quote and maybe, someday, there actually will be.
All that to say, my life does not feel like a mosaic. It feels nothing like a beautiful, fragile, intricate piece of artwork, instead, it feels like someone let a two year old loose in a room with a pad of construction paper, a pair of scissors and a jar of paste and said "ok, have fun!"
I see all my friends putting their mosaics together. By settling into careers, waiting for promotions and buying houses they are picking out the next little pieces to be cemented (or whatever type of adhesive mosaic makers use) into their picture. But I can't seem to even find the pieces my mosaic needs, let alone the cement they need to keep them in place.
I have no idea what I'm doing.
Like the two year old who was left to cut and paste paper on the walls of some room, I feel like I'm finding things I like or things I want, cutting them out and slapping them together in a desperate attempt to create something beautiful. But compared to all of my friends murals, there doesn't seem to be enough paste in the world to hide all of the cracks and empty spaces.
And yet I keep trying.
When I talk with my friends, I make it seem like I have it altogether by talking about all of the different things that I get to do and try while I wait for the next chapter to start. When they talk about their 9 to 5 and dental insurance, I talk about the trips I'm planning and how I've started flossing twice a day because I'd rather pay for a plane ticket then a dentist visit. When they talk about five year plans, I try to make "winging it and hoping for the best" sound like a cool, edgy millennial thing to do.
But I can only cover up so much.
My friends can pick out the next piece because the last piece they put in is not likely to budge. My pieces aren't quite that sturdy. My pieces are more temporary. I'm trying them out. This current piece, Korea, is just resting where it is right now - waiting to be moved, changed or solidified. So, I can't even be looking for other pieces right now let alone picking out the one that comes next -which means that there are glaring holes in my mosaic.
There have been times when I have found pieces that look similar to the ones my friends have used. I have picked them up, put them in and tried to cement (glue, putty, whatever) in place and then realized, often too late, that it doesn't fit quite like it is supposed to. And, it turns out, the feeling that something doesn't belong is much worse than the feeling that comes with being told something is missing.
Which is why, I have decided that, yes, my life may look like a haphazard mess - especially right now- and it may seem like I have no idea what I'm doing (because I don't) but I'm done trying to cover up the places that appear to be a mess. Even my friends, with their neatly mosaic-ed lives have a few cracks in their whatever-adhesive-you-use-on-a-mosaic.
I'm embracing the cut-and-paste art project that my life seems to be and all of the haphazardness that comes along with construction paper masterpieces.
On one hand, embracing it means that I have no idea what's coming next and that's scary. On the other hand, it means I have no idea what my mosaic will look like when it's finished and that's exciting - because I know, no matter which pieces end up being permanent, it's going to be beautiful.
