To Boldly Go . . .

For as long as I can recall, I had a quote printed on a decorative 8½  by 11 sheet of paper taped to the bathroom wall of the little aerie apartment I lived in with my kids during my divorce. I protected it—not in a frame—but a sheet protector. Who could afford frames? Since I was a church secretary and had access to a computer, a copier/printer and tons of office supplies—which I was in charge of ordering--I was like a kid in a candy store. So I printed, copied and protected all sorts of ephemera: Song lyrics, recipes, cute notes from the kids, letters to friends I could now type up in a fancy font and print out rather than handwrite on school notebook paper. I copied articles from magazines, passages from books, A+ homework assignments from Annie and Christopher to send to my parents. It was heaven.

So, it wasn’t surprising that my main decorating style was whatever I could print out at work and bring home and tape to a wall. I’m not even sure how this particular quote arrived in my awareness, but it came from this:

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, 
always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), 
there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: 
that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. 
A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, 
which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. 
I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!

The passage occurs near the beginning of The Scottish Himalayan Expedition by W. N. Murray, a Scottish mountaineer and writer. The Goethe couplet referred to is a loose translation, but that hardly mattered to me because I’m pretty sure that’s the part I responded to: the magic. I modified it a bit, found some pretty paper and hung it in the bathroom to inspire not only me, but the kids, too. (I also had a shower curtain with the United States capitals on it—didn’t want them to miss an opportunity to learn something!) I recently thought of that quote and wondered if I still had it somewhere. I wouldn’t say I’m a hoarder, but I am an unrepentant sentimentalist and there was a possibility I had it tucked away somewhere.

I had.

In an old copier paper box marked “Eastman – 1996” (also courtesy of my former Office Supply Procurer status) I found it in a file folder of newspaper clippings and school awards—sans protector. It was pretty much as intact as it had been in my little divorcée bathroom. As I held it, I remembered how much I loved that font—I think it was Lucida Calligraphy—and used it when I wanted to be fancy or have something look good. I worked really hard back then at trying to look good. And not in a come-hither way, but in a “I am a competent person and parent” way. Because nothing I was doing signaled that. Even though it was the ‘90s, there was still stigma and judgement surrounding women who left marriages. Seemingly happy ones, especially. I think those words: “Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it” suggested that it was possible I could make my decision work. Especially if there was some magic, because I definitely wasn’t feeling bold, genius or power. I didn’t mind thinking that maybe some good things might come my way once I committed to making a new life for myself and my kids. I mean, I was going to need help from somewhere; it might as well be providence.

To boldly go anywhere isn’t always easy. Does anyone ever anticipate going to difficult places—physical or emotional—as something that might be a hoot? No. Nobody does. And I suppose recalling this quote on the wall showed up in my brain as I head into yet another difficult place—several really. Like Annie’s cancer diagnosis. As I get older—another challenge--I like to think that things might ease up a bit, give me a little break. But since it’s not looking that way, I have to commit myself to what’s before me . . . us. There’s not really anything else I can do, is there?

And if Providence wants to give me a hand, I’ll take it.