an open letter to teenagers

Hear me, oh teenagers: This, too, shall pass. This sense of boredom that seems to prevail with the teens I am most familiar with. Or should I say, the boredom will pass if you engage. Engage in your life. Engage in talk, in positive action, in art and music, in the natural world around you. Engage your mind and your heart and your body. Engage your caring and empathy. In other words, give a sh*t. About something, anything.

Why am I compelled to tell you this? Because my son let me read his blog. (Thank you, Andy, that was most trusting and kind of you. You are a great kid and I love you.) And I just had a reminder, a glimpse, into how the teenaged mind works sometimes. I remember being fifteen, when days seemed endless, when big things were going to happen but not soon enough, when I was transportationless, trapped, and the hours dragged on. I remember (albeit vaguely) being bored. My mother's solution? "Go clean your room then!" My solution was to escape into books and boys. Eventually I found other things to be passionate about, things to light a fire under my boredom. But you have to seek these things out, or at least come to your life with an open mind. Because you just never know what lies in wait for you on any given day. It could be something exciting.

These days, boredom would have to chase me down and beat me with a stick before I'd acknowledge it's existence. I simply don't have time to be bored. My mind is full to overflowing with ideas, things I want to do, make, cook, write, read, experience. If there is nothing to do at a given moment, there is always something to think about. Some problem to solve, some mystery to puzzle over, some issue to grapple with. Life, in short, is never boring. I know adults, however, who never fully engaged, and struggle to find ways to pass the time. There is a quote I love (this version attributed to Susan Ertz, although it may be older): "Millions long for immortality who don't know what to do on a rainy afternoon." To all the beloved, interesting, full-of-potential teens in my life-- it is imperative to know what to do on a rainy afternoon. Sometimes I just nap, and that's ok, too.

As a p.s., I picked up the September issue of Oprah's magazine at the dentist's office yesterday, and there was an amazing poem in it that said so well some of what I was trying to say here, when I started writing this a few days ago--about keeping an open mind to the exciting things that could come your way every time you open the door. I was tempted to tear out the page. But I didn't and I will find the poem and post it here. I suppose that is not illegal. It was just very inspiring. J.