Secrets

Last night, we had the pleasure of attending yet another, "this only happens in awesome cities!" event. We took a mini road trip (4hrs) and drove through Northwest Colorado to Grand Junction where we attended a Postsecret event at CMU. The event was interesting for several reasons... first, as my boyfriend so chivalrously pointed out: I don't just feel old, I am old. Well: older. Comparatively. Not that age is a bad thing by any means. I often equate age with wisdom and experience and give it veneration and respect. But, if I had graduated at 21, gone to grad school for 2 years, or toured around South America like most of my friends on Facebook are busy doing- each crafting their own unique post-college new world identities- then I would still be sitting there: 25 and figuring my way out. Finding my place. I would be a post-Post Grad. Then what?  I may identify myself strongly with the free spirited Tom's wearing youth of college campuses, but in my my ratty home-made v-neck and skinny jeans, I felt more like an imposter than a compatriot. This is my first strange encounter with age disassociation. Somewhere in between the awkward shiny days of 21 and the hip sarcastic safety of 30-here I am. The true definition of a Twenty something....but what exactly is that something? When you are busy becoming what are you? The truth is, right now, I don't feel like much of anything. Except a disillusioned anti-social basement dweller....but, before I begin to wallow too deeply in my own vaingloriousness, I reach my second point.

    The event was interesting. If you know what Postsecret is, and have ever had the interesting task of explaining it to someone, you know it can be quite challenging to define.  It is better seen and experienced, than explained. But, for lack of a better explanation: it is a "community art project" that has morphed into the largest form of group therapy I can imagine. I have always strongly believed in acknowledging and strengthening our shared humanity, believing therein lies our greatest hope. Don't worry, I'm not getting all new-agey guru on you. A lesson I've recently learned however, is that sometimes the greatest relief can come from simply sharing something out loud. Even if there is no solution, no healing to be found, a tiny step can be taken simply by giving it voice and allowing yourself to come that much closer to a place of better. Not that we all have to be squeeze-boxes to our innermost thoughts and feelings. In fact, there are many things I'd rather people not share (I don't need to know the intimate details of what happens in your bathroom or your bedroom, thanks). Many of the secrets shared are ones I don't even relate to, but they give hope and help to those who do relate to them, and make them feel less alone; which can sometimes be the greatest gift. It's not the nature of our problems that unifies us, its our need to share them, and in that, find community. Anyway, all this is a verrrry long and round about way of saying, that I was grateful not only for the secrets shared, but for the perspective they gave. Sometimes peeking into someone else's life can make you feel a whole lot better about your own. It's not a game of better or worse. Win vs. lose. It's about each person taking the time to take inventory of what they have, in addition to the have not's, and to be grateful for what they find. To appreciate the small things. To "find the everything in the nothing" to quote the beloved Miriam Bradbury.