Lisa Scottoline
I speak to you today as a mother, and the first thing I want to say to you is that I'm proud of each and everyone of you. I have a daughter who graduated from college last week, and so I know firsthand how difficult it is been for you to get to this day. I lived with her through AP Bio, the SATs, freshman orientation at college, and a series of seemingly impossible assignments and a truly staggering work load. Your generation is the most tested generation to date, and you deliver on every occasion. You are to be congratulated what everything you have accomplished, and I hope that you soak in every minute of this, your commencement day.
They call a commencement day, I think, because it's the beginning of your life after college. But if I can take a second, I'd like to change the way we think about that. My generation had a dopey expression, which was, today is the first day of the rest of your life. As trite as that sounds, I think there was actually a fair amount of truth in it, and in my view, it can help you think about the rest of your life.
Because the real truth is, every day of your life is a commencement day.
Every day is a day in which you wake up and you can choose how to live your life. Whether it's to a apply for job, or to ask somebody out of date. Or to buy a car or sweater. You choose every action in every day of your life.
To be honest, I think people tend to forget this. We tend to get in ruts. We get stuck in jobs that bore us or relationships that don't hold up. There's a mindset that leads to this, a mindset that says changes are scary. I think it's a terrible way to think about life, but it prevails. All of you will be interviewing for jobs, and I know that somebody's going to ask you where you think you'll be in five years. You know the answer they want. The answer is they want is, I want to be just like you. I would have my own desk with the nameplate, and I want to wear the same tie as you and I want to have a Phillies mug full of pencils. The mindset is in five years, I want to be exactly where I am now, only with more money.
Don't do that.
You have to say some words to get past the question. And I know you can think of the words or you wouldn't be sitting where you are. But secretly, we know better. Life isn't to be lived in five years stretches. Life is moments.
I need a reminder about this, too. I write books for a living and sometimes I'm called upon to describe natural things in the world, like the sun, the moon, and the stars. You may think you know what the sun looks like, but it changes depending on the time of day, and the time of year, and the weather. And of course I have to describe it in the mood of whatever it is I'm writing, so the sometimes, a city sun drops behind an asphalt roof like a copper penny. And sometimes the night sky can be the color or frozen blueberries. And to describe these things actually have to go out and stare at the sun or the moon or the stars. When I do, I become aware of the things in the world that I've never seen before, or never really thought about, or never really tried to find words for and in those times. I truly slow down, and that's when I really remember how I should live. All of my life and all of my moments.
I'm thinking this a lot lately because of the tragic passing of a journalist Tim Russert, NBC news. He died quite unexpectedly yesterday, and it made me think even more than before about life and how to live it. We're not guaranteed any amount of time in this life. So the only time we have is now.
I was at the mall yesterday with my daughter because I want to buy her a watch for her graduation and so we went to different stores, and every sales clerk said to my daughter, What's next? Now I know they were just trying to make conversation or maybe sell us a watch. And by the fifth what's next, I was ready to answer for her — less politely:
You know what's next? You get out of my kid's face.
Because right now, she and you all should enjoy yourselves and rejoice in what you've done, on this the first of your coming string of commencement days. You don't have to know what's next. Don't think about next now. Be right where you are, in the present, in this moment. Your moment.
This is your commencement day and tomorrow we will have another commencement day and another commencement day after that.
There's no more pencils and no more books and from now on. You are giving yourself the assignments of your life. It's like a paper with no prompt—only forever. And that's good news because you get to decide. And when you take some time and figure out what you want to do that day, you'll come to know what's next, and you'll do it. Only you can decide what's next for you and only you should.
And I wish for each and everyone of you to go on to your commencement day tomorrow to live your life in the moment, enjoying each one. Give yourself permission to not always know what's next. Ignore all the salesclerks who ask stupid questions.
And take the time to look at the sun, the moon, and the stars.
© Lisa Scottoline 2008