Hello Old Self, Of Sorts

I'm up too late with too much work, and I just peeked in my email in-box after forbidding myself to do so. I was shocked to find a letter from my former self. Not really, of course. But a letter from a young person, a writer, a funny, clever, ambitious girl I've never met or heard of, who just graduated from my alma mater, got my email address from the alumni office, and was asking for a little advice.

Although in certain slants of light this could have made me feel either wistful, pleased with myself, mildly put-upon, about a hundred and ten years old, and so on, reading it just made me smile. I know this girl. I knew this girl. I was this girl. What I want to tell her, and maybe I will in some way, because I will write back, is that in so many ways, I still am. 

I am becoming reconciled to the idea (today, anyway) that on a grand scale, there is no peak I am going to scale that will render me complete. Instead, there are lots of peaks, and valleys, and hurricanes (hello, 2008) and just me, with no legitimate hiking gear, incompatible tendencies toward impossibly lofty ambitions and wild inertia, and--saving grace--a healthy amount of small-f faith. 

I know tonight as I try to fall asleep, I will be both making mental lists and schedules of how I will finish the work I need to finish tomorrow and composing my response to this girl. I was taught by my mother, learned myself, and see in Lily the truth in the notion that if you really want to learn something, teach it to somebody else. I think this is true for advice, now that I think about it. If you really want to know what you should do, make your case to the least jaded recipient you can locate.