The Carousel of Time

Joni Mitchell

I was somewhat raised on Joni Mitchell, so it’s hard to find a song she’s released that doesn’t resonate with me, but the one that I’ve carried with me into my teenage and soon-to-be young adult years is “The Circle Game.” 

This month I had my last first day of school in the town I’ve called home for the majority of my life. I’m writing this in the room where I could once, without fail, barge into to annoy my brother. But now he’s hundreds of miles away at college and the only time I’ll see his face in this pale blue bedroom is looking at his discarded  (quite carelessly, in his true form) temporary driver’s license. Said sheet of paper sits next to the globe we used to spin around as fast as we could and wait to see where in the world our fingers would land. Back when the sheer enormity of the world wasn’t terrifying but captivating instead. The idea of being “grown up” wasn’t a scary reality but something so distant in the future that we’d never even get there. It seemed just as unattainable as those faraway countries our fingers would point to once the globe came to a halt. 

“The Circle Game” tells a story that, as far as I know, is pretty universal. One day we’re rushing to be Grown and Independent and the next all we really want is to be Young and Careless once more. The first verse introduces a young child -- “a child who came out to wonder” -- catching dragonflies, standing in awe of storms and stars. There is no weight of the world to be felt yet -- life is a source of fascination, not fear. 

Verse two looks at a ten-year-old, hopeful of his future that remains just out of reach. “Words like, when you're older, must appease him/And promises of someday make his dreams,” Joni sings in that dreamy voice I can always recognize right off the bat, the one that never fails to warm my heart. I remember so vividly being ten, lying in my bed each night imagining what I’d be like at 16. Such a magical age, it seemed. Because somehow the world promises that at 16, suddenly life is everything and more -- driving cars, going to parties, falling in love, freed from the limits of being a Kid. 

Then sixteen came and went. I got my driver’s license and while I am no big party-goer, I had fun by my own definition. But Miss Mitchell was right -- “And they tell him/Take your time/it won't be long now it won't be long now/Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down.” As soon as my 17th birthday came within view, 16 felt less extraordinary. It felt too short. Is that it? Did I miss something? Why do I still feel like the same person? I think I need a little more time to become “me.” Where the end of childhood once seemed like a far off dreamworld, the several unfinished college essay drafts sitting in my Google Drive like to remind me that this future is actually my Current Present Reality. 

Each verse of the song ends with the same spiel that I suppose could be considered incredibly depressing, and when I get into my Why Is The World Spinning So Fast??? mentality, it definitely doesn't comfort me. Joni tells us: “We're captive on the carousel of time/We can't return we can only look behind/From where we came/And go round and round and round/In the circle game.” And while I guess if someone was going to tell me that I’m trapped within this endless loop of time for as long as I live, I’d prefer it be Joni Mitchell. These words SCARE me. You’re telling me the world never slows down?

But luckily she leaves us with one last verse to keep us hopeful. And I like, within reason (pragmatism is both my strength and weakness), a good dose of optimism. We revisit our unnamed boy at age 20, no longer a child (if we’re talking technically, that is). Joni sings: “Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true/There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty.” Recently, these are just the words I need. 

Oddly enough, the past few months have felt as though someone pressed pause on my life, despite everything this song tells me. And quite honestly, I think it was a pause I very desperately needed -- it gave me some time to catch up with myself, reevaluate, exist outside of the normalcy (and slight monotony) of being me. But now it’s time to press play. 

So, as the circle game re enters its continuous loop, I won’t expect that growing up will be my saving grace. I’ve had enough teenage disillusionment to figure that one out. Instead, I’ll find my new dreams, better dreams, as Joni suggests. I’m not the same person as I was when I was 10… or even the same person I was six months ago. Actually, I’m not sure that’s true. Perhaps I’d be more truthful in saying I’m more myself than I was six months ago. I’ve let go of some ideas and I’ve grabbed on to new ones. Most significantly, I think I’ve fallen in love with the present again. “We can’t return we can only look behind/From where we came,” after all. I can’t fast forward, either, so as “Real Life” starts up again, one day at a time seems to be the way to go.