Three Ways off a Burning Bridge
I have a tendency to burn my bridges. In the past 10 years I have burned bridges with five people I at one point considered very important to me. One of those bridges has since been repaired. I doubt the rest of them ever will.
I'm still not entirely sure why I do this. I think it has something to do with the way I view my life, as a set of influences and contacts that I have hand-picked for myself. For me to break off an important friendship with someone, it means that they have done something so inexcusable that I no longer wish to associate with them, or that they have done something so hurtful that it pains me to remain with them. This in turn demands that I also break off their influence on me, so it is not something that affects the way I deal with other people. So it is not something that defines me. It is, I think, much easier than forgiving someone. Especially when you're not ready to do so.
That said, that this one bridge was repaired is a great relief to me. Although I feel as if the burning had to occur, at the time it did, for those involved to grow up and move on (myself entirely included), I am glad it's now back and, I think, stronger than ever.
I don't know why I'm taking the time to write this now. It's just something that's been on my mind...well, a little over a year now, I guess. When I think about the way I was, the way we were, 5, 6, years ago, at the end of high school, compared to the way we are now...I think thanks to those bridges that were burned and that one that was revived, I am now so much happier, so much at peace with myself and the kind of friend I am. And it makes me feel like that's another reason to burn bridges: it allows you to burn with them the parts of you that maybe contributed to having to burn them in the first place.
We learn things from every person we meet: whether about that person, or about the world, or about ourselves. And I think, if nothing else, I learned a lot about the person I was and the person I would rather be from the bridges that were burned.
This time is different and odd, though. This time I feel as if I am learning from the resetting of stones and lumber, of struts and ties and beams and cables, rather than from the fire that tears the same parts down. It's refreshing. And it feels good.
There's three ways off a burning bridge:
You pray for rain or you learn how to swim.
There's three ways off a burning, burning bridge
But if you can't find strength then you quit
And you can just burn up and sink
Then you'll drift away, real slow
Down into the ground
I'm still not entirely sure why I do this. I think it has something to do with the way I view my life, as a set of influences and contacts that I have hand-picked for myself. For me to break off an important friendship with someone, it means that they have done something so inexcusable that I no longer wish to associate with them, or that they have done something so hurtful that it pains me to remain with them. This in turn demands that I also break off their influence on me, so it is not something that affects the way I deal with other people. So it is not something that defines me. It is, I think, much easier than forgiving someone. Especially when you're not ready to do so.
That said, that this one bridge was repaired is a great relief to me. Although I feel as if the burning had to occur, at the time it did, for those involved to grow up and move on (myself entirely included), I am glad it's now back and, I think, stronger than ever.
I don't know why I'm taking the time to write this now. It's just something that's been on my mind...well, a little over a year now, I guess. When I think about the way I was, the way we were, 5, 6, years ago, at the end of high school, compared to the way we are now...I think thanks to those bridges that were burned and that one that was revived, I am now so much happier, so much at peace with myself and the kind of friend I am. And it makes me feel like that's another reason to burn bridges: it allows you to burn with them the parts of you that maybe contributed to having to burn them in the first place.
We learn things from every person we meet: whether about that person, or about the world, or about ourselves. And I think, if nothing else, I learned a lot about the person I was and the person I would rather be from the bridges that were burned.
This time is different and odd, though. This time I feel as if I am learning from the resetting of stones and lumber, of struts and ties and beams and cables, rather than from the fire that tears the same parts down. It's refreshing. And it feels good.
There's three ways off a burning bridge:
You pray for rain or you learn how to swim.
There's three ways off a burning, burning bridge
But if you can't find strength then you quit
And you can just burn up and sink
Then you'll drift away, real slow
Down into the ground