'Begin, Be Bold, And Venture To Be Wise'
Horace said it most aptly.
An Augustan lyric poet, Horace had a remarkable penchant for writing down the short and sweet idioms — like, "Carpe diem," and, "Nunc est bibendum" ("Now is the time to drink"). A poet and a philosopher, a lyricist and a satirist, the seemingly contrary facets of poetic thought and creation were not at odds, but instead consistently intertwined in his writings and letters.
Striking, splendid, and utterly encompassing, Horace was a poet of the people and of the time, and I know it's silly to think that, thousands of years ago, a Roman poet's simple contemplations would be in the mind of a twenty-first century college grad — yet, here I sit, and these words I ponder.
"Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise."
As I begin to edge my way into the adulthood that follows undergraduate life, and I leave behind my childhood home, I have (so far) learned three things:
- I actually miss late-night wings delivery.
- Not all realtors are created equal.
- Life is full of (too many) possibilities.
After twenty-one years of academic rules, parental curfews, and organization guidelines, I feel like I finally have a liberty to do, say, and decide, like I've never had before. I've always had opportunities, and new potential around every corner, but never have I felt like I was the one truly navigating my life.
I know this must sound absurd, particularly to those who have been thriving in adulthood for years. You postulate: After the countless bills and loans start adding up, and I awake too early every morning to spend my days at a full-time job that I don't necessarily love, I'll reminisce about the days when my biggest concern was what to wear to class.
Even so — even seeing what lies ahead, the financial intricacies and societal negotiations that border my future path — I am just overwhelmed with excitement and pure elation. I am gearing up to spend the next two years of my life in a city that I've fallen in love with, thriving in my own little apartment, and charting out the future years of my life, one T-stop at a time.
Life is full of (too many) possibilities, and it still hasn't hit me that I'm the one at the helm of them, sifting through options, tiptoeing around choices, and steering the refreshing course of post-undergraduate life.
As I filter through emails from realtors, and pore over every conceivable job board that I can find, I can't forget this unfamiliar territory, can't look too far ahead that I miss the new moments of today. They say that every day is a new day — a new journey for discovery and anticipation, and as it ends in sunlessness and the warm summer dark, tomorrow will bring again an open mind and an enlivened spirit.
I am boldly beginning, and I await the destination of each day, each an all-consuming tiny pause that will add to the next, fashioning a composition of my life.