Ascent

I think it was in my college essay, the one that I had to write when applying to schools, that I first used the phrase “descent into adulthood.” I remember my father reading that phrase and questioning me about it.

“Do you really mean to use the word descent?”

He thought I should have used ascent, or at least something more positive. He was interested in my motive.

I remember thinking that it was a descent because life is ultimately on the path to six feet under, or at least that was my existential, young-adult thought. I’m not really that cynical. I think I was just trying it on for size.

But now that I’m here, beginning my foray on adulthood, I can’t help but think about that phrase again.

In college, I was all about ascent. I was excited about working my way up in most everything I tried. And, for the most part, I’m happy with how far I was able to climb.

Here in adult land, I’m once again at the base of the mountain, and not just the ones I can see from my front door. My adulthood, no matter how many twists and turns, will really have only one path. There is only one peak that I will ascend to. The scary part is picking which one I want to climb. Wouldn’t it would be easier to just let gravity push me in its natural direction?

Climbing the corporate ladder, or whatever the equivalent in my field might be, is not something I’ve ever worried about. I have always had positive reinforcement and success in that area.

But would an ascent toward the top of my profession be a true ascent into adulthood? And would that mean leaving other facets of life well below me? What would it be like to see the world as a play set high above from the corporate jet? I’m really not sure how great an ascent that would turn out to be – how great an adulthood that would turn out to be. It could be grand, but it could be lonely. There’s really only one way to find out: start climbing.

So I will ascend toward the adulthood I’ve started and reach out toward the sky with open arms and an open mind. Some things may crumble beneath me on the way up, but I’d rather fly than die.

Comments welcome,
Andrew