Today I went to see the biopic A Complete Unknown about his arrival in New York and the storm that ensued after Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie, the latter weakened by Huntington's disease and bedridden in a New Jersey convalescent home, were taken by the teenager troubadour from Minnesota.
Most of the scenes felt exaggerated and forced, the charming but tortured Dylan churning out stunning lyrics one after another. Everyone loved everything, and women including folk legend Joan Baez wanted to own him. One after another, Bob Dylan broke away and established himself as the property of no one. That included record labels and the Folk Music Society, both who benefited immensely from Dylan's talent and popularity in the tumultuous days of McCarthy's anti-communist trials, Civil Rights protests, the assassinations of John F. and Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Vietnam. Dylan was certainly impacted by the events of his day, yet he refused to be defined by them.
Which brings me to my own life. Unlike Dylan, I think I have gone to great lengths to be defined by others. Rather than letting my own life unfold on its own, I backlight some skill or trait like shadow puppets and sell my soul to be recognized for it. I have made a life out of wanting to be "the guy who..." [insert sensitive, creative, manly verbs here].
Age brings wisdom, so they say, and the career of Bob Dylan calls me to be more authentic, speaking up on issues that are important to me, but no longer worrying about what others think or do about it. At Barnes and Nobles Booksellers today, I picked up a new release titled "The Let Them Theory" by Mel Robbins. The cover smacked of all the self-help, fly by night motivational crap that has been rehashed for decades, and I imagined that I would soon find five or six copies on the shelf of my regular Goodwill resale shop for five dollars instead of the $29.99 list price. But the words "Let Them" pulled me back for a second look. Reading the cover notes, I wasn't all that impressed, but still added the title to the waiting list at my public library. Still, it clicked that I am constantly sucked into the drama intentionally created by people all around me. Social media, clients, colleagues, family, all compete for my emotions and attention. Especially disturbing are the ones who ask for my advice and support, then do nothing or exactly the opposite of what I advise. (I get it. Sometimes they weren't asking for advice at, just validation that their predicament was not the result of mistakes on their part. It almost always was. For those moments when I short-circuited and tried to steer them to avoid the pain, I apologize. I was trying to deny them a life lesson that may have been far more effective.)
Robbins' advice to me? Let them. If the idiots who elected a racist, sex abuser, and demagogue seeking to crown himself king of the universe, feel he will deliver them the comfortable, safe, feel-good life they dream of, let them. If the local politicians want to leverage the future economy of the city to save a poorly-managed marina, let them. I am in no position to stop them. Feeling like I am a crummy person because I speak up but am unable to change them, I am digging myself a premature grave.
Growing old grows to be more attractive every day. Sure I am struggling more to recall names and places. My knees object every time I have been sitting too long and my limping gait leaves my wife wondering whether she will have to help me off the floor. My stiff back and legs jar me from happy dreams and a grouchy prostate punches my bladder and demands a trip to the john to earn another hour of sleep. Still, the self-determination that comes from retirement is precious now, and maybe short-lived. Becki has a number of elderly clients she visits, nearly all deprived of their independence, forbidden to drive, bathe in private, or use a stove or oven. Where they are free, however, is in the freedom NOT to give a shit about what others say, think, or do. They have made it past the finish line of career and parenting, and wisely stand back and let others figure out all of THIS WORLD for themselves. There are no strategic plans to consider, no vision statements and growth plans to conjure up. Simply wake up, make coffee, solve the New York Times word games for the day, and decide whether there is anything that can't be procrastinated off to some other day. Really, does it matter? A forest path could be beckoning me to explore, or a book is holding back some mystery yet unread. There are a couple of newish vinyl record albums that haven't yet been unwrapped, and new watercolor brushes that want to play with pigment and cold press cotton sheets.
Once, there was no time for such playful activities.
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.
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I don't have the corner on this thing called living. Advice from well-meaning people is appreciated. The rest of you can just keep your traps shut.