On the eve of my 55th birthday, I visited a park in Paris that I’d frequented often while studying abroad in my 21st year. I planned to take some videos to share with my son who, now 21 himself, was commencing his own study abroad in Amsterdam.
Listening to Elton John’s “Sartorial Eloquence”, which I’d played repeatedly on my yellow Sony Walkman “back in the day”, I meandered through the Parc Monceau until a park bench compelled me to have a sit. I thought about my 21-year-old self with her permed hair and numerous insecurities. I remember clearly her struggles at the time with disillusionment over her college major, homesickness, and heartbreak over an unfaithful boyfriend.
I noticed an empty bench to my left and pictured her sitting there, swimming in these worries. I’ve learned recently of the power of removing time and space to reach ourselves at a time when we needed guidance and wisdom – with the effect of healing ourselves backward and forward. From my vantage point 34 years hence, I considered what 21-year-old Kristin needed to hear from her older, wiser self.
Sensing shame around her sensitivity, I tell her to embrace it and that it will be one of her greatest gifts. I tell her it’s okay to not worry so much and that she doesn’t have to white-knuckle life. I tell her that things can and will go many ways and all of them are okay.
I tell her to not be afraid of the abysses knowing that she wants to avoid them rather than fall, float, or fly into them. I tell her she will meet and marry her soul mate and be mother to two incredible boys that she’ll love more than she can imagine.
I tell her pointedly that the “shoulds” in life are not absolute.
I tell her that her seeking nature will be a steel thread in her life with the fruits unfolding and sustaining her. I tell her to enjoy her slim figure and tight ass because they won’t last.
Mostly though, I want her to know she will be okay.
I feel complete with this download and wonder what cellular rearranging is happening across time and space that adds another fiber of strength to her being.
I then notice that there is also an empty park bench to my right. I do the math and realize that another 34 years hence would have my 89-year old self sitting there. Dare I? I take a breath and let her materialize. I see a well-dressed elder with long white hair, sparkling blue eyes and a small dog. She is peaceful, content. I know she also has some wisdom to share with me.
The first thing she says is, “it’s never too late.” She senses my concern that I haven’t made enough impact. That I’m smack in midlife and haven’t made a deep enough mark with my time here. She wants me to lighten up and find the gentle middle way between letting things unfold and taking uncomfortable steps toward changing what is asking to change. She tells me new vistas are waiting to be discovered; that I still have much to do. To be. To give. She tells me to take care of my health so I can do these things.
She tells me to choose love over fear. To release trying to control outcomes. To watch energy fields with others and keep them clean. She encourages me to find my spiritual jogging partners and run the path with them.
Mostly, I notice her calm presence. Her smile. Her satisfaction in looking back and seeing the journey was just as it should have been with all of its colors, textures, rhythms.
55 felt like an uncomfortable milestone. But with my 89-year-old perspective, I see it as a midway inflection point with loads of runway in front of it.
With gratitude, I close my eyes and offer a birthday toast to my other selves across time.
-Kristin
Kristin Brownstone is an MEA alum, professional storyteller, coaching her clients on how to tell better external stories in their professional realms and how to manage and limit their inner storytelling. She is also a public speaking coach, stage actor, and contributing writer to Fast Company magazine. You can follow her other writing here and can find her on LinkedIn, Instagram, and Illuminate.