Passenger of Life

Diane Ackerman
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Diane Ackerman (born October 7, 1956) is an American author, poet, and naturalist known best for her work A Natural History of the Senses. Her writing style, referring to her best-selling natural history books, can best be described as a blend of poetry, colloquial history, and easy-reading science. She has taught at various universities, including Columbia and Cornell, and her essays regularly appear in distinguished popular and literary journals.

The Sunday Scribblings prompt for this week is the following quote:

"I don't want to be a passenger in my own life."
(Diane Ackerman)


What an interesting quote. What does it mean? Where do you place the emphasis?

One option is: I don’t want to be a PASSENGER in my own life.

At times in my life, I’ve been a passenger, and happily so. Sometimes being the passenger made me feel trapped and angry. Other times in my life, I’ve been the driver. Sometimes reluctant, sometimes with purpose.

It’s the variation of these roles that makes life interesting. Sometimes it’s good to be the passenger. When things are going well, it's easy to just go along for the ride. Then things get bumpy. Sometimes we just have to ride things out before we can decide what to do next. Perhaps it’s the decision part that is key. You have to be the driver in order to change your direction. You can yell and scream from the passenger seat all you want that you’re heading in the wrong direction, but unless you actually take control of that wheel yourself, the course will not be altered. There will always be crossroads. And unless you are the driver, you will be stuck. Or at the very least, at the mercy of someone other than yourself. Sometimes you have to drive. Drive with purpose.

A second option: I don’t want to be a passenger in MY OWN life.

Sometimes I don’t want to be in the car at all, well at least not in MY car. How easy it is to slip into the pattern of thinking everyone has it easier than you, or is doing things that you can only dream of doing.

• SHE is so thin and pretty.
• THEIR kids sleep through the night.
• HER husband volunteers to take the kids to play.
• HE gets to entertain clients, while I’m stuck at work.
• SHE doesn’t have to answer to anyone and can do what she wants when she wants.
• THEY get to do all the fun things.

The reality is that those same people you envy so much probably want to get out of their own cars at times too.

It's funny. My friends used to live vicariously through me. They were all married, some with kids. I was young, single, and traveled to cool places. I owned my own house and answered to no one. I had FREEDOM. At the same time, I envied them. They had love and stability and kids and a LIFE. Now, I find myself living vicariously through others. Wishing for a day to myself. Longing to be able to pick up and go without having to make a thousand arrangements first. Maybe this vicarious living is just part of the aging process, part of the cycle of life. Remembering my youth and carefree days. Before responsibility to others took over. When it was just MY car I was in charge of. But just like I envied my friends back then, I know there are those who envy me. And they should. My life is full.

My direction: I don’t want to be JUST a passenger in my own life. I want to drive sometimes, too. And I would like to be a passenger in your life, if you will let me.

Sometimes I want to lead, sometimes I want to follow, and sometimes I just want to get the hell away. I would also like to accompany you on your journey, for I am a good companion.

The good news is that I can do all of these things. And still get to where I want to go.

The best news is that I LOVE where I'm going and who I'm going with.

Morning

For Sunday Scribblings #32:

Morning sure does come alot sooner now that the time has changed.

My 4 year-old is not yet adjusted back to the standard time. This morning, he started morning at 5 am. Have you ever heard a 4 year-old try to be quiet? It's pretty loud.

My 1 year-old usually makes it until almost 6am or so. Which is pretty okay most days. But, we recently took down her "baby jail" (it's a play yard we had located in the middle of our family room), so now she has free roam of the house. Which means, if she's up, I'm up. Bummer.

I used to love the morning. Now, not so much.

UPDATE (11/6/06):

I have thought more on this topic, and have decided that the most offensive time of the day is 4am. Throughout all my months of breastfeeding and having babies who woke in the night, 4am was the time I hated most. At 2am/3am, you can still get in a few/couple more hours of good sleep. At 5am, you can go on and stay up, because you were about to get up anyway. But 4am is obscene. Going back to sleep only makes you more tired. Staying awake only makes you more tired. Good lord, how I hate 4am.