Vladimir: Well? Shall we go?
Estragon: Yes, let’s go.
They do not move.
~ last lines of Samuel Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot.
Those last few lines of Beckett’s tragicomedy describe lots of folks, present company included. Let’s get on with it (and bring out the watercolors). Let’s go (come on and wait for me). Let’s work out (and work it out). Let’s eat only healthy foods (just for every next meal). Let’s drink lots of water (and let the river and tears flow through us and out of us). Let’s get married (and make lasting memories). Let’s get divorced (and forget the whole thing). Let’s text (when no one is watching). Let’s dance (some more). Let’s write that magnum opus (geez, you haven’t done that yet?). Let’s go to the Zoo (again, still, today). Let’s put more lights on the tree (and illuminate this space where Death reared its ugly head). Let’s meditate (and empty our minds and hearts to make room for more). Let’s not interrupt each other (and hear the whole story and nothing but the story). Let’s be silent (and listen to each other’s heartbeat). Let’s take a nap (on that hospital bed with our dog). Let’s go hear his band (or let’s just play the CD again). Let’s get out of our pajamas (and into the shower and then back into our pajamas). Let’s open the curtains (the sun’s too warm for my cold heart). Let’s stop procrastinating (maybe tomorrow).
Yep, that’s how it goes. Something like dat.
The only thing in life you can complain about, wail at the wall all morning, noon, and night over, overflow the river, and stay in your pajamas all day – all week – all month – is if Death showed up at your door and took that last breath of your loved one. I can’t think of any other reason to shut out the sun, to unplug the phone, to turn the music up so the neighbors can’t hear the tears running down your leg, or to toss and turn like a salad in a bed that sounds like popcorn being made.
Nope, you getting fired, your girlfriend dumping your cheatin’ butt, you gettin’ arrested (again), your boss ignoring you, or your missing remote are not legitimate reasons (excuses, rationalizations) to complain, to stay frozen, to not move, to not go. If you hate being mediocre, do something about it. If you hate your job, your circumstances, your relationships, your attitude, your life – do something about it. Or, not.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she said.
