Meditation: On Endings

Is it easier to begin or to end? In writing a piece like this, both moments will have me staring through the screen into the void of infinite possibility before furiously typing with hopeless, reckless abandon and eventually deleting, even more furiously, whilst admonishing myself for ever thinking that those words would be good enough.

But at least, when putting words on a page, those moments are clear and definite.

Endings in life rarely are.

Endings are generally seen as a negative. This is a notion reinforced by phrases like “all good things must end”. But what if it is only a timely ending that makes the thing “good”? Perfect and complete are the same thing. Complete and finished are too.

The negative connotation causes people to cling on desperately and rebel against the impending ending. In relationships, people draw out the ending - whether through indecision or fear - only, sometime afterwards, to realise (with a big aha!) the true moment of ending. A specific moment in time they can point to and say “that was where it really ended”. A specific moment in time, invariably, long before the end.

Other times, endings are forced upon us. A career-ending injury, a house fire, a sacking. With these, there is a painful processing period that follows as the brain and body stubbornly cling to habits and instincts they no longer need but had been given no forewarning to relinquish.

Sometimes, we force an ending before its time.

This is something I've wrestled with of late.

I've certainly done it with my writing. In fact, I reckon most of us have. Just think back to those Year 7 English lesson stories where you ran out of ideas and hastily wrapped up by saying "then I woke up and realised it had all been a dream".

I write this in my final days of a job performing a task which is, in my mind, unfinished. I had a clear goal coming into the role. A timeline and a checklist and optimism. I had a plan.

"Mann Tracht, Un Gott Lacht"

• Yiddish phrase.

("Man makes plans and God laughs")

The problem with forcing an ending before its time is that you’re left with a lot of what-ifs and never-minds. It’s hard not to dwell on what could or should have been. It’s harder still not to dwell solely on the positive missed opportunities and not the worst case scenarios that may have played out. Perhaps there’s solace to be found in the notion that to leave with your head held high, you must leave before the final straw breaks your back.

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.”

• Orson Welles

I know from past experience that all endings, untimely or precise, bring great gifts of wisdom and the potential for personal growth. It was only after my father’s passing that I began to understand the man. I was able to make some sense of his life and its impact on mine. In time, I will be able to make sense of my tenure as a complete and necessary chapter.

For now, I’m going to [force myself to] embrace a period of rest.