What the yak scarf told me

Today was the first really cold day of fall. The sky was overcast and grey, the wind whipped through the trees and the thin walls of my house, and my body refused to get out from under the warm covers in a timely manner. As I got ready for work, I paid special attention to my layers. I wanted to be warm on the bike and ferry, of course, but not dressed to the point that I would swelter all day in the office. I settled on a big turquoise knit hat and a pink and purple scarf. As soon as I pulled them out for their New Orleans debut, I was swept up in memories. Isn’t it wonderful how a simple object can transport you to another place?

The last time I wore my floppy hat was at the kick-off for an oyster reef project last January. It was freezing and I dressed in 32 layers of sweaters, long johns, vests and my floppy knit hat. The hat reminds me of that day because I had it on my head before I gave an interview and a thoughtful colleague told me to remove it immediately—I guess I do look silly in it but it is so soft and warm and happy and floppy! Putting it on this morning the emotions and stress of that day came rushing back. It was and probably will remain one of the most wonderful days of my career. Schlepping in the mud and cold with 600 of my closest friends all working together to build something lasting out of the tragedy of the oil spill is something I will never forget. It made me happy to remember that day and the people who made it special.

The scarf is an altogether different story. I’d actually never worn it before today. It is a pink and purple floating piece of art made of yak wool. Yes, yak. A former colleague brought it back from a trip to India. It kept my neck perfectly cozy and warm on the deck of the ferry as it made its way across the Mississippi. Do you think the person who made the scarf ever imagined where it would end up?

Life is so strange, isn’t it? When my co-worker gave me that beautiful scarf last year, I had no clue. No clue that I would done it for the first time in a completely new city, at a new job with new adventures and new people. I couldn’t have imagined it if you’d asked me.

And so these were the thoughts that I pondered on the boat today.

No matter what, in your wildest dreams, you can’t imagine what your life will be like even one year from now. What new people will appear in your life and become dear to you. What people who are dear to you now may not be with you when the next November 28 rolls around. The future is completely unwritten. And that is a wonderful and scary thought.

The conclusion I came to with my hat and my scarf is that a wise person looks to the past to determine what is most meaningful in life, what really made an impact, and plans for a future that allows space for more of what mattered before with a little room for what you can’t yet imagine. That being said, looking backwards is a waste and looking forward is folly if it doesn’t make your present a wonderful place to be. And right now,  on this boat, in my ridiculous hat and so soft scarf, with the wind stinging my eyes and the sun sinking behind me, I am perfectly content to be just where I am.