revision x

Originally published 24th October 2023

This might be a little less polished and a little more gritty than my previous posts, however, she’s a diamond in the rough. And this space is for embracing the wabi-sabi. To find beauty in the imperfection.

When I was thinking of a title for this post, the word and themes of “revision” came to mind. My intentions autocorrected themselves with the definition of a revision or rewriting of text, however when I looked at this word, and I mean really looked, I broke it down.

Re-Vision.

Re-Imagine. Re-Dream. Re-View. Re-Collect, Re-Frame. Re-Do.

And all this came to me because I had a dream last night which lingered with dreamstate and sentiment long after I awoke. I stayed with the inquisitive curiosity. The intuitive knowing. And it felt potent enough to make me wonder if something greater than my own being had planted it there like an acorn with the potential to one day grow into an oak.

In reality, I am aged 35. And I dreamt that my 35-year-old self had gone to sleep but awoken to the reality of suddenly being my 15-year-old self again. However, the past 20 years of connections and knowledge, skills, achievements and failures, had remained true in my body and mind. I had tried to convince others in my dream that I was really 35 and had 20 additional years worth of experiences and memories and feelings expressed built into my muscle memory. And I started to think of all the relationships and moments I would miss if I hadn’t experienced them, as well as all the things I would do differently, a few things I wouldn’t bother with, several things I would start immediately and not wait for… a hundred new things I would try.

And then, in reality, my alarm clock stole me away from this world and woke me up… though I stayed with these thoughts. I stayed with this honest truth of what had mattered and what hadn’t in these past 20 years.

You see, if all this were to truly happen, and these 20 years remained real in my mind and my body, then I don’t think I would redo the majority of it. I say this initially because you only live once and I would like to experience as much as I can. My kindred spirit would voluntarily sit at the wheel to captain my way through uncharted waters and new, mysterious personas.

It now seems like my 15-year old self had all the time and energy in the world, and I thought of all the dreams and skillsets and projects I’d dive into and pour my entire being into.

I thought of the characteristics which I would change immediately, or bring to fruition, or go about completely differently.

And what was also interesting were the people and moments and places I’d want to keep… to go out into the world to actively seek and bring into happenstance all over again.

Despite being incredibly independent, I would relish those last few years “at home” with “parental support.” I’d start a job in my preferred field to gain work experience and start savings right away. And I’d learn about investing and growing wealth. I’d aim to be as financially conscious yet not frugal as possible . I’d take the reins on my health and start a holistic diet right away while trying to be as active as I could by dancing or rowing or going to the gym all at the age of 15.

I’d still fall in love with the first boy I ever did at the age of 17. Albeit more gracefully. And when it ended I would have respected it and made peace with it, instead of bestowing myself with a decade of deluded hopeless romanticism and self-inflicted heartbreak which in-actuality followed.

I would have found a way to go on that damn school trip to Australia. Which sounds so silly to write, but strangely it still feels so prevalent. To me going to Australia is not a desire or a bucket list tick…

…it’s this intuitive feeling

of something I was meant to do…

…and it just didn’t happen. A road not taken.

I still would have gone to college. However (she takes a deep breath) a more affordable one. No need for student loans and the societal/self-imposed prison which comes along with it. The burden. The guilt. The defeat.

I would have moved to a big city and studied production design as affordably as I could while I worked my ass off in apprenticeships and self-taught learning to build up my skillset and portfolio of passion projects.

I would have had more sex.

All that lack of confidence because southern society hadn’t properly taught me to embrace femininity and sexuality… All those years of not knowing how my own body worked… All the shame… All the confusion around logistics and pregnancy. All those missed opportunities to embrace pleasure. I would tell myself to let go of that disservice immediately. And yet… even today, I still hold on to some of it.

I wouldn’t move to New York again… the tears, the hustle, the crushing reality of my own internal world vs the magnitude of the external world around me. However, to-this-day, the job where I experienced the biggest high and most pride I have ever felt was in New York. And that’s an interesting thought…. if I were to get rid of this one thing I regret which brought me so much hardship, it would also mean getting rid of one thing which also brought me so much happiness and meaning.

I realized with brutal honesty that there’s only a handful (and I mean one hand) of people from my past 20 years that I would go out of my way to try to find and cultivate those friendships again with timely patience and care.

I would write. And write. And write. I think now of my unfinished projects and I would push myself to go full steam ahead while I had what seems like all the time and energy in the world. I’d be tempted enough to write Fleabag and sell it as my own though deep down I know it would fall flat…

I think I’d still end up here, in London. Which is odd. Because I question my being here every day. That is hard for me to admit because this was my dream for so long. But it’s now so askew and compromised. I hardly recognize it. And

it doesn’t feel

as glorious or freeing and wonderful as my 15-year-old self (and 25-year-old self. and 35-year-old self) imagined it would.

I allowed social media, and invisible societal responsibility, and moral obligation to highjack the car. My car. And I allowed a lack of resources to pull me over. I followed the suggested route although intuitively I knew I should have done it differently.

How could I allow this? These feelings? This misdirection? The lack of pride and meaning.

There’s a thought which comes to mind in this moment by the Indian philosopher Adi Shankara that people grow old and die because they see other people grow old and die.

And I wonder if that’s what happened…what is happening…

I wonder if I saw other people grow older and take on responsibilities. Take on the stress and the grind, which in turn was brought upon myself.

I wonder what was necessary and what wasn’t.

I wonder.

I wonder on reflection, that although this dream I had depicts a picture of the road untaken during the past 20 years, if these thoughts are perhaps the directions for the next 20 years ahead of me. I wonder if 55 year old Lindsay dreamt she awoke to being 35 year old Lindsay what her thoughts might be?

What would she change or start immediately? What would she let go of which wasn’t serving her?

To close, I’d like to share a revelation I once had. I was a senior in college with only a few weeks left to graduate from film school. And I felt this remorseful revelation that I had played it too safe with my projects. I was too afraid to go wild after my most imaginative ideas at the fear of falling short and not producing something as polished or wonderful as it had seemed in my mind. And suddenly the time was all over and the graduates crossed the stage. In that moment, I realized I should have just gone for it.

So over 10 years later when I went to grad school, I allowed myself to use this knowledge as a tool and I ran wild with my projects. They were gritty. They didn’t follow the “guidelines.” They nearly failed me out of the programme (she says with a laugh.) Truly!

But I would do it all again. I would create the same projects, the same way, all again. Because I’m proud of them and I made the rules. And I learned so much that I know will inspire me for the rest of my life.

I hope the 55-year-old Lindsay will want to do those 20 years all over again because she lived by the beat of her own drum. She didn’t watch what was happening around her and therefore became it.

I hope she, I hope I, will become something else entirely.

I hope my dreams and actions will become the mirror and change the world around me.

To take initiative. To

self-teach

self-learn

gain experience

make money

write the books

eat well

be active

seek those friendships

make the art

travel the globe

be patient. be graceful. be sexy. be kind

fall in love

don’t look back.

with no revisions. no revisions.

x Lindsay