KS Culbreth

On Simple Plans

When we are young, we often make better decisions than when we are older. When we are young, the future is long and unwritten and it is simple to chart a course through those unknowns. And often the charting of that course most closely reflects the desires of our hearts, the longings of our soul, and the fulfillment of our intellectual pursuits. And we are young enough not to be discouraged by the counsel of elders who are often cynical or envious of youth.

But as we age, something odd happens. We learn first of variables and then the multiplying effect of exponents.

As we sail along our charted route, variables spring up before us like great mountain walls that were not mapped when we charted our course. We learn with difficulty that we must find a way to beach at the mountains and haul ourselves and all we take with us over the mountains or must remap our route entirely around the mountain island.

Either way, the variable has thwarted our simple plans.

And, undoubtedly, as we make our way through that variable, we find complications to our new, uncharted route. So we begin to work our way through the jungle only to become so entangled that we must retreat and find a way around. And in so doing discover an atoll of coral just below the surface of the water. Further entrapments that must be overcome if we are to continue.

So we must find our way over or around once again, and in so doing, we discover the exponential impact of those variables: still further variables, further tangling, rougher waters, spent supplies and low morale.

Often the journey becomes so cumbersome that we forget the destination that we had charted our lives toward. Or, if we do still envision that golden land with a clean, bright aura that we’d planned for our lives, the journey itself becomes so tortuous that it becomes a polluted land of burnt umber, its aura sallowed.

Cynicism begins to squint our once-bright eyes.

Futility slogs our marching.

Finally, hopelessness often gives way and our young faces become smudged with the ash of despair. It is difficult not to covet and resent those who reach their destination seemingly without effort, whose path was laid and prepared by others, and who enjoy all the fruits of their journey without seeming to have ever broken a sweat. It is difficult not to resent the idealism of the young, not so much because of a disdain for an age as for the embarrassment we find when we recall our original plans and how pure and simple they seemed.

But if we put that aside and shift our focus from the obstacles to a destination, we soon discover a clear vista through the tangled vines and therein our way both out of and our way toward. It may not be precisely our original destination, but we can accept it as a fine alternate and set off again with a renewed sense of purpose.

It is then that we look back at our younger selves and our simple decision making. We know we had it right back then and we wonder how we had so complicated our journey that we lost ourselves along the way. We travel with a bindle stuffed with regret and dream, a little gold perhaps and some cherished pictures.

We listen to the young charting their course with enthusiasm. We try to advise them in such a way as to help them prepare for the inevitable variables and to encourage them to keep their eyes focused on their destination as they work their way through those obstacles.

It heavies our hearts a bit when they look at us with those idealistic eyes and see the counsel we offer – that counsel itself part of the fruits of our laborious journey – as an obstacle in itself.