a thinning light✨
the 1920s of the great gatsby in the 2020s of mexico
I spent my winter in Playa del Carmen, soaking up sand and sun and salty waters on my lunch break every day. After my daily plunge into the Caribbean, I would either do nothing but dry off in my own mediations, actively journal, or read into another world as the water droplets would fall onto my towel.
My book of the season was The Great Gatsby, which has been on my bookshelf since high school, but never quite maintained my attention because it was about boring white rich people. However, it started to roll off my eyes easily, and quickly became my beloved beach read as flashes of The Jazz Age in New England crept along my EST daydreams. One passage in particular stood out to me after the narrator Nick Carraway realized it was his 30th birthday:
"Thirty- a promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning light of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair. But there was Jordan beside me, who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well forgotten dreams from age to age."
As many might know, I'm now in my 30th year. As I read this passage, I rolled my eyes for my parental boomer generation, arguing in my head that "30 is still so young!". However, you're never as old as you are right now, and you'll simultaneously never be as young again. I commiserated the anxiety of growing older with dear Nick.
This year, with fortunate circumstances being thrust upon me in ways I had never dreamed of, I've been forced to re-examine old narratives of myself. Have I been carrying forgotten dreams in the emotional baggage of my thirtieth year? Is what I wanted in my teens, what I've been working towards my whole life, what will still make me happy as I grow into my 30s? Or is it time to stop ignoring what is presently making me happy? Is it time, not to "give up", but to reevaluate the narrative of "happiness" that I've held onto for so long?
What I personally have been working towards my entire life, in general, has not changed, but I'm surprised to admit that the journey has not only taken longer than I thought, but has also invited and sparked new dreams that I never imagined were possible! Instead of rejecting the NEW because it doesn't fit into my "plan", I've lately been taking time to figure out how I can incorporate it into narratives that haven’t been collecting dust under my childhood bed.
As I've thought that I've loved to invite change into my life, I'm a little shocked at myself for being so rigid with how I've held onto a projection of my future, rather than the reality of my present. Why do I feel betrayed when I smile at crossing off bucket list items I never knew existed?
Some journalling questions to ponder for our journey into Spring: What narratives has your "identity" held onto? Have your “wants” changed at all since your early twenties? What dreams would you like to hold onto, and which would you like explore in evolving?
So much has changed for me in the last decade. I used to chase constant excitement, always looking for culture at every corner; now I bask in the quiet, the anti-chaos. My world has gotten bigger (I can travel now!) but smaller in my day-to-day. I've learned to accept the small things, while still dreaming of bigger things. Just feeling content with the mundane is okay. On the flip side, I'm also mad at myself for not achieving my writing goals yet and I'll be 32 this year. I just am dilly dallying for no reason except fear. Stupid.
As for the Daisy-Gatsby complex—chasing the past— is part of being human. I've met so many people, as I'm sure you have, that glorify their high school or college days, that they hit their prime then, and only talk about that time period of their lives. It's pretty sad, but I'm guilty of doing it too.