Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, and the very next day, I did it again.
This Christmas, I’m counting down twelve of my favourite songs to listen to in 2024.
In the next few weeks, I’ll be writing articles inspired by all of my favourite songs to listen to this year. The ones that hit the hardest. The ones that resonated the most. The ones that helped me through the tough times. Even the ones that already served as inspiration for previous articles. You know the ones.
This article, on the first day of Christmas (let’s play pretend…), is inspired by a Miley favourite of mine: Slide Away.
INSPIRED BY SLIDE AWAY
“Once upon a time it was paradise. Once upon a time I was paralyzed.”
– Slide Away, Miley Cyrus
If there was a theme to my writing this year, it would center around this idea: As Katie Pruitt so wonderfully says in Phases of the Moon…
“Sometimes the crystal ball is cracked.”
Sometimes the life you had envisioned for yourself doesn’t pan out the way you thought. Sometimes you’re forced to change everything. In fact, sometimes, that’s exactly what’s needed.
In his book Hell Yeah or No, Derek Sivers writes “To make a change, you have to be extreme… It will feel like overcompensating, but you have to stack a huge pile of bricks on the other side.”
This is exactly how Miley opens Slide Away. Once upon a time a fairytale ending loomed large. The next moment, she found herself “paralyzed”. Once upon a time she thought a small part of her life had been found. The next moment, it was lost. Oh, Miley. Oh how do you get me?
On more than one occasion this year, I’ve hyperbolized about my future, only to find out that the crystal ball is cracked. Only to find out that I need to completely stack the bricks on the other side.
I so often desperately look for life to feel good, and when it finally feels that way for even a fleeting moment, I put myself on the mightiest of high pedestals, sitting in my throne and thinking of myself to be invincible. It’s not long before I’m knocked off the high horse and find myself floundering in the ocean.
The lesson here, I think, is to never get too far ahead of yourself when hyperbolizing about the future. Literally every self-help expert speaks about knowing your future self and your future ambitions clearly. But I’ve learned this year not to say “this is the way things will be in the future.”
I’ve learned to be more flexible when making future plans. I’ve even (sadly) learned to slightly detach myself from nouns like people and places, ensuring that when the crystal ball is cracked, it doesn’t smash instead. I’m not sure if that’s truly the best approach. I don’t see it as a sustainable one.
What should be sustainable is, however, to avoid the comfort that lies within the highest highs of paradise. You can never take life for granted or sit atop the throne for too long thinking that you and your life are the greatest. So easily, all of your dreams could turn to dust.
The dust that settles can be quite unsettling when you do find yourself attached to all the nouns – people, places AND things. Let’s be honest, it’s natural to find yourself attached to people, places and things. Miley says it herself:
“Think I’m going to miss these harbour lights.”
But every good Miley always writes a good follow-up. As she says…
“Think I’m going to miss these harbour lights. But it’s time to let it go.”
Yes, inevitably, you will miss the things in your life when they are no longer there. Even if they were so bad for so long, you will miss all the good. But at a certain point, it has to be time to let them go.
Two days before racing the Squamish 50K, I sat alone waiting for the airport shuttle, crying. Just crying. Crying as a result of a really beautiful gift. But a really beautiful gift that reminded me how tough it would be to move away from all of my favourite people, and have some of my favourite things in the world come to an end.
Secretly, I’ve made it look all too easy. I’ve made it look all too easy to move away from my favourite people in the world, thus practically disallowing them the opportunity to continue being anything more than a floating speck in my life for the next few years.
These are all the people that I would want to still be in my life at year 80, that I’ve had to lower the blinds on right now, at year 27.
And unfortunately, the need to let all of that go came about from a need to reinvent myself in a place where my fields of work will be better prioritized. But equally, I had to let the harbour lights go as a result of all the other lights that wouldn’t stop electrocuting me.
I don’t think I’ve ever fully expressed this to myself in the deep deep archives of every other article written on this transformation or the troubles throughout this year. But moving to BC was always going to present me with the right opportunity to truly leave the past in the past.
Admittedly, leaving the past in the past has been a tall order. I’ve walked through all of these North Vancouver rainstorms without any rainboots. Without any umbrella. I still have dreams on a weekly basis where I’m back in the city lights, being wronged by those same people.
But every single time I have one of those dreams, I try my best to shrug it off, and enter the storm, regardless of the umbrella I may or may not have. Sure, I should probably equip myself with better resources at this point. I should probably get a pair of rainboots. But if I can’t stop the storms just yet, I can at least weather them.
Like Miley, I don’t give up easily.
But regardless of resilience, this recognition is key. Sometimes life heads in a different direction from where you thought it might go. Sometimes you have to split. One of you goes back to the ocean. The other goes back to the city life. I’ve gone to the ocean. And now that it’s turned to dust, I’m not going back to the city life.
I’ll miss those harbour lights that shine so freaking bright. But it’s time to let them go.
Thanks for reading and see you soon!
Another one of my favourites: Move on, we’re not seventeen
Rhys Desmond 