Wisdom — Megan Diehl ’07 Theatre Alumna
Megan Diehl ‘07 Theatre Alumna
“True progress quietly and persistently moves along without notice.”
—St. Francis de Sales
The arrival of spring is a reminder of the inevitable progression of time. The seasons change and we move forward. We make progress. As I’m sure most people can relate, I’ve been more impatient for spring than ever this year. A pandemic winter can be cruel – separating us even more from the limited points of contact we had. We adjusted quickly to the many sudden changes in our day-to-day lives last spring, and then waited, searching for answers while our lives were on hold.
I’ve never been a patient person. It’s not fun to wait. It’s frustrating and exhausting. I was eager to be done with winter this year, and I’m beyond ready to return to some version of normal life. I’m always anxious to finish a task and move on to the next, and I often want progress to move faster than it naturally does. There are some days when I wish the injustices in our society could just be resolved tomorrow, without the slow and steady movements we must make towards greater equity. I want it to move faster.
Even now as some of us begin to get vaccinated, we feel the urge to race towards reopening our lives. And though the risks are still real, so is our impatience to hug our loved ones, travel to new places, and enter that next new phase. Waiting feels like we’re paused, not learning, not growing, not searching. And yet there’s wisdom to be found in these transitional times.
As the great poet once instructed an impulsive and love-stricken young man, “Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.” It’s tempting to think that the answers we seek lie in the next phase, the next step, the next season. And the faster we get there, the faster we’ll find the answer.
I watched last spring as our 2020 graduates saw the world lurch to a close just before they were set to take off into it. The time between student and graduate became longer and longer. Luckily, I also got to watch them reinvent themselves — find new ways of savoring a huge life transition that looked nothing like what they anticipated.
They served the community, they helped each other, they found innovative ways to make a living when they couldn’t yet start the careers they were called to within the restrictions of our “new normal.” A true display of wisdom and resilience if I’ve ever seen one, and perfectly reflective of another great poet’s words, “If there’s a reason that I’m still alive; When so many have died; Then I’m willing to wait for it.”
Even as I look outside, I’m reminded that the severity of winter does not instantly transform into the warm summer days we crave. We want to be outside and feel the freedom of the lush, green summer once again.
Yet the snow must leisurely melt, and we must endure a few rainy days before the trees begin to sprout new growth. If we were to rush past those in-between times, those liminal spaces, we would miss the spring’s budding trees. We would overlook the cool breeze on a sunny day, all because we were too busy rushing towards a summer that will arrive whenever it’s ready.
And there’s the wisdom in waiting. The transitions can be the most precious parts of the journey. The blossoming before the bloom. We move intentionally from one stage to the next and we need not rush the process nor seek to skip any steps. If I’ve gained any wisdom from waiting through this era, it’s that whatever is meant to be ours will come in its own time.
Megan Diehl, BA (‘07), MA, MEd (‘19)