I was reading M.F.K. Fisher’s Last House and was touched by her essay titled “My grown-up ears.” The story was about being receptive to things we once were not, and how it’s a relief. I had a number of thoughts about the essay, on the particular points that she was making, but I won’t recite them here, other than to say that the thrust of the article was not to be too hard on yourself, or guilty for not being ready for something; just be happy when you are, and relieved and attentive to the things you can now appreciate.

It made an impression on me– one that came to the surface when I was reading this post by She She about her relationship with her mother. She talked about that one moment, when something happens, literally momentarily, that changes everything. For her, it was a realization about her mom, that allowed her to relate to her in a different way. She was wondering– was this what it meant to be grown up? And I felt momentarily sorry for myself, because I’m not there yet in my relationships with some of the people in my life. But then I remembered how sanguine Fisher was about her “grown-up ears.” She didn’t
tell herself off for not being ready to hear some piece of music, appreciate some writer’s work, find the flow in a piece of prose or the melody in a bit of lyric. She just let go of the not getting it, and embraced looking forward to getting it, as it came.

Would that I could be so graceful, in letting go to resistance, or of recognizing resistance has disappeared, in time to embrace something, someone, with a grown-up heart. I know I would tell a friend that they can’t force themselves into feeling something. It just has to develop. I would tell a friend that knowing and accepting are different things, and that knowing won’t necessarily speed up the accepting– and that pushing it, or feeling guilty about the slowness of your heart’s adaptation might even hurt, causing your not-yet-ready hard to dig in a little, hold on a little more tightly to angers and resentments it’s not yet ready to relinquish.

While I might not have a heart that’s ready to give up all of its childish resentments, I can at least know and try to accept that someday I might be able to– and take solace in the fact that I have given up some. Instead of nagging myself into an acceptance I’m not yet feeling, I can just look forward to someday, feeling that moment, when I find my grown-up heart.