“When a Tralfamadorian sees a corpse, all he thinks is that the dead person is in bad condition in that particular moment, but that the same person is just fine in plenty of other moments. Now, when I myself hear that somebody is dead, I simply shrug and say what the Tralfamadorians say about dead people, which is ‘So it goes.'” -Kurt Vonnegut Slaughterhouse Five
I’m a fan of Vonnegut. I love his dark sense of humor. I like how he captures the sadness and hope of humanity. One of my favorite quotes of his is
“Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you’ve got a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies-“God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”
Anyone who preaches kindness earns points from me. A few years ago I was walking to down an ally in State College, PA. It was a chilly fall football morning. My family and I were heading to breakfast… there it was, on the wall in faint white chalk, “So it goes.”
I took a picture of it, and eventually had the picture made in to a canvas print.
I’ve tried to live aspects of my life by these philosophies. Be kind. Accept things that are beyond my control, roll with it.
After getting divorced I had to do a bit of re-discovery. Vonnegut helped with that. Sayings like “Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.” were good reminders that we have a choice on how to respond to the world around us.
Dating also helped with the rediscovery. I was forced to view myself through someone else’s eyes. The first few people I met, I was just overwhelmed and awkward with any attention that I received. Not because I didn’t think I deserved attention, but because I wasn’t used to it. I remember the first time someone held my hand – it sent shivers down my spine – it had been that long. The more serious relationships taught me a thing or two about love, and about letting go – something I’ve never been very good at.
There was D. who was warm and affectionate, but not ready to date. She was the first person I said I love you to (post divorce). She broke things off more times than I can remember. But we always enjoyed each other’s company and she was always in my orbit… until she wasn’t. So it goes.
There was K. She fell for me fast, and I squandered it. She was warmer than I gave her credit for and probably more guarded than my patience was allowing. I had been expecting whirlwind, and we had some of that, but I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I was on the verge of saying I love you, but held back and used that hesitation as a sign that things were off (I could have just as easily used it as a sign that things were heading in the right direction). I was doing the dreaded comparisons, and it was a bad idea. She wouldn’t take me back. So it goes.
I later met a woman, B.S. (no it doesn’t stand for that). She was light and fun and artistic – a good and kind soul. We had a great first date until she told me I wasn’t edgy enough for her. We stayed in touch, went out one more time. Same result. I wasn’t edgy enough. Sometime after that, I was contemplating this series of trials and errors called dating. I was thinking about not being edgy. I was thinking about always losing people in this process. So it goes. That’s when I got the tattoo. Me with an edge (as if a literary quote gives you edge).
It wasn’t until I met the woman who would become my fiancee, B, that this history I had been collecting all faded away and the world seemed to find a sense of harmony. Irony of ironies, when that all disappeared, I couldn’t (and still can’t) fall back on the philosophy of So it goes. I cared too much. I suddenly found myself holding on for dear life. I had dared to make myself vulnerable. I couldn’t use the so it goes shield. Things mattered. B mattered. Love took on an entirely new meaning and depth. It became my essence. To say so it goes would be to shrug off the closest thing I’ve felt to true love and the greatest loss I’ve felt.
So it goes (sometimes).