Measure For Measure

The older I get, the more able I am to accept that most of the things that I thought I knew about life are totally inaccurate.

This is both comforting and troubling.

It's comforting because I realize now that this is true of most of us, just bumbling around down here trying to figure it out and get by.

It's troubling because -- holy crap, you mean NONE of us know what we're doing? That can't be good.

At any rate, the hardest thing for me has been embracing the notion that there are, and always will be, crossroads in my life where I want to use what I thought I knew as guideposts even though I know that they are not what I should be using. It's like when you are learning to bake and the instructors tell you to make sure you don't measure liquids in the dry ingredient measuring cup, and vice versa. It won't always ruin your recipe, but it COULD. Of course, we all do it anyway, a time or two. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes it doesn't. Working out the next steps in your life by a set of faulty standards is equally hit or miss.

All of this is, of course, in my noggin because I'm leaving one phase of my life and entering another. I feel out of sequence and somewhat displaced at the moment. It will pass -- all things do -- but I'm wondering if some of the struggle isn't a result of the fact that I continue to want to cling to the ideas I hold about what my life ought to look like instead of recognizing that, as imperfect as it is, it's still mine to live in whatever fashion works for me.

And that may or may not include measuring liquids in dry measuring cups.