I wonder how many endings we miss in our lives. I read an article years ago written by a man who, in his youth, thought it would be a great idea to use excavation equipment as furniture. He would have a large loft space and use the bucket of a front loader as a couch, the backhoe as a chair. I imagined that they would be upholstered and could be moved around at will. He obsessed about the idea and was committed to following through when he had the ability to do so. Years later, he remembered out of the blue that he had long ago decided to use excavation equipment as furniture but at that point considered it a silly idea. He didn’t remember ever making the decision not to do it. He didn’t remember when the commitment ended. A lot of things are like that.
Sometimes you can look back and recognize the moment when the ending happened. After the fourth season of Dancing With the Stars, it’s over. It doesn’t have the same excitement and after a couple of episodes of season five you decide not to watch anymore. End. You have always worn white shirts as your signature look and then one day, you pop on a blue sweater and you get complements all day. A couple of weeks later, the white shirts go to Goodwill. End. It takes a while to get there, but you can see where the end began.
And then sometimes the end walks up and smacks you in the face. You turn the corner to go to your favorite coffee place and it is closed…for good. End. Your best friend moves to Madagascar. End. Your studio building is sold. End. But wait. Maybe it’s not really an end. You can go to another coffee shop. You can stay in touch with your friend electronically and maybe even visit her. And you find another studio. In my case, you build another studio.
The garage at home is being transformed into a two story studio with the advantage of being a short walk from the back door in pajamas with a cup of coffee in hand. Sometimes the end is a beginning.