Good morning, you marvellous creature! I hope that today finds you well-rested, prepared for all of your meetings and up to date with your emails.
Life, as many famous people have said in a wide variety of trite and/or profound ways, is made up of entrances and exits. Your life-long social circle can therefore be likened to a train station, a play or a party. Let’s go with the party metaphor, shall we? Help yourself to a symbolic beer and a non-existent cupcake.
Some people enter your life and immediately make themselves comfy on your favourite beanbag, whereas others may only poke their heads in, apologise profusely and back out again. The problem, as anyone who has ever hosted a dinner party will know, is that an emotional seating plan is very hard to stick to when the guests keep switching chairs, dashing off to the loo or disappearing for AGES while they make a phone call.
In some cases (both in the metaphor and in reality), you sort of know that the party won’t really start until a certain person shows up. In the metaphor that person is traditionally your other half/spouse/life partner. In reality I have found that it’s usually my dear friend Mario, who is always as boisterous and tequila-laden as anyone could possibly hope for. Other pro party starters include my good friends Baino and Cieranne (pictured above), who are probably both going to kill me for using that precise image. (They look like they’re having fun though, don’t they? Exactly.)
The other party guests can be very surprising: friends whom you used to adore may end up leaving early, and comparatively recent arrivals can emerge as the life and soul of the shindig. In other words: sometimes you lose contact with people you thought you’d know forever, and someone you’ve known for a matter of weeks may already be one of your closest confidants. C’est la vie – or soirée, if you will.
Sometimes the departure of one specific person can be difficult – particularly if that person was up for the role of life partner – but we have to trust that when someone leaves the party early, they’re making room for a first-class late arrival. Unless the circumstances are particularly fraught, I don’t think that people ever really want to leave your life. (Why would they? You’re a HOOT.) It’s just that parties are a law unto themselves, and life has a funny little habit of doing whatever it sodding well pleases.
The party is the thing, and the shape of your evening/life is defined by a whole bunch of entrances and exits. When people exit your life, it may not be permanent. When people enter your life, they might come bearing more booze. Whatever the circumstances, all we have to do is answer the door with a smile and enjoy the festivities.
Well, I think I’ve tortured that metaphor quite enough now. Have a glorious Tuesday.