As Rainer Maria Rilke famously shared:
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.
Elliot Costello is a social entrepreneur who co-founded the YGAP in 2008. YGAP finds and supports impact entrepreneurs with bold solutions to poverty in the world’s toughest communities. Elliot grew up in St Kilda, Melbourne, and is the son of Tim Costello, the CEO of World Vision and one of Australia’s most recognised voices on social justice, leadership and ethics.
Dear Elliot,
Being 13 is a challenging time of your life. I write to you with the same numbers in my age, but reversed.
I see the frustration you hold. You are leaving St Kilda Primary, so far the home of your education, and you are heading to secondary school. Unlike your friends at St Kilda Primary, you are not going to the local high school or Catholic boys’ college. Mum and Dad have, to your dismay, selected Caulfield Grammar School for you.
You are the only one from your entire school heading to Caulfield Grammar. The shock and anxiety is real. Every morning you will be boarding from platform two at Balaclava train station while your friends prance around platform one. Make peace with it, though. This is the best decision your parents will make for you.
There is a saying: ‘The only constant in life is change.’ You won’t know it now, but take my word that it’s true; and the sooner you comprehend it, the better.
Year Seven will be full of surprises. You find friends quickly, but take stock of who you associate with. It won’t be long before some of your ‘friends’ are requested to leave CGS. Teachers are fond of you but their patience with you will grow thin at times. The small piece of comfort you hold in that first year is choosing your sporting focus: basketball, football and cross-country running. Sport will continue to play a huge role in your life, so be grateful for your opportunities.
I know you’re feeling embarrassed. From time to time, you may even feel oppositional. Why do you have the boring father: a Baptist minister? He’s a Christian do-gooder who calls the most marginalised people in the community ‘friends of the family’. And he even makes the news for doing so from time to time. While all of your friends’ parents are pursuing legal, business and medical careers, you sheepishly whisper your father’s occupation. This faith that your father holds will begin to resonate with you personally some years from now. Eventually, you will profess to holding it for yourself.
The embarrassment is heightened when your new group of friends stay over at your place for the first time. Peter, a member of the community with mental illness, knocks at the door of your home. You know him, as Mum and Dad often offer him a cup of tea or quiet chat. You explain to him that Mum and Dad are away. While this is normal for you, your friends are shocked. It’s the first time you realise how different your upbringing is to that of your new friends from Brighton, Hampton and Sandringham.
It will surprise you to know that the love both your parents provide to our society’s most vulnerable, poor and disadvantaged will be a source of inspiration not only to you, but also many of your friends. For some, it will help shape and mould the careers they elect to pursue.
I encourage you now to embrace the difference. Own it. Be proud of your parents and the courageous – albeit different – lives they have chosen to lead.
Before long, you’ll be faced with some major peer pressures: kissing girls, drinking alcohol, wagging school and even breaking the law. Some of these experiences are not ideal; but all of them will help shape you.
There is one thing I will warn you against, though: smoking marijuana. It’s hard for you to understand right now – it’s accepted, or even encouraged, among your friends. But this innocent green plant poses the single biggest threat to you and all that you hold dear.
As a person who loves life – his family, friends and sport – you will be harmed by marijuana more than you think. It will burn small holes in your brain. Your studies will suffer. Your friendships will alter. You will become paranoid. Voices will appear. The way you engage with girls at a formative age will change. And it won’t be until you form an addiction, which takes two years to shake, that you realise how affected you are by this ‘experiment’.
I urge you to say ‘no’. Like some other friends, have the courage to resist this path. You are already different from everyone else; this is merely another way to embrace it.
Growing up in St Kilda – a multicultural, lower socioeconomic suburb of Melbourne – you will see many things others won’t. You will waste hours hanging out with friends at an arcade parlour run by drug dealers. You will be exposed to street violence and vandalism. You will disrespect authority. All of which seem normal to you. All of which keep your mother awake at night. And rightly so! You will one day lose a close friend in a stolen car, which crashed after a high-speed chase with the police.
The journey ahead is paved for you, Elliot. While turbulence lies ahead over the next few years – both within school and out – you are loved by so many around you. Teachers grant you asylum. You begin to settle down by Year 10 and grow into a sporting leader, high academic achiever and a well-loved member of Caulfield Grammar, all the while binding your old primary school friends into your new social network.
Take heart in your restlessness. Be kinder to yourself. Become a leader earlier in your life by saying ‘no’. And learn to embrace change – or even welcome it.
Every decision you make enables ‘us’ to become the man I am today.
Enjoy your teenage years,
Elliot
Erik Thomson is a Scottish-born, New Zealand-raised Australian actor. He is known for his roles in the TV series Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, All Saints and Packed to the Rafters. He won an Australian Film Institute Award for his performance in the feature film Somersault.
Dear Erik,
Could you please stop watching one-day cricket for a minute and read this letter, it’s very important. Okay, now a lot of the things I tell you won’t really sink in because you are a teenager and therefore developmentally predisposed to ignore adults’ advice. The world is your oyster at your age. You feel immortal and you think you know best how to live your life. I understand that, I’ve been thirteen myself, just try and absorb that for a start.
There are a few things, however, that would be very helpful for you to at least consider. They may save you some pain, although that said, pain is an elemental part of learning and unavoidable if you’re living your life correctly. I say that because no matter how much advice I give you, you WILL make mistakes, you WILL experience grief, joy, sadness, happiness, loneliness, frustration, in fact every human emotion IF you are truly living. So be brave enough to put yourself out there and get amongst it, take the good with the bad. It’s a cliché but ‘life is not a dress rehearsal’, so go and live it!
On that point, it’s your life, not your parents’ or siblings’ or friends’, yours! They, of course, are an incredibly important part of your life but should not define it. So listen to your heart. When you do things that give you joy, peace and satisfaction, keep doing them. The people who really love you will respect your choices, as long as they don’t harm others or yourself, and should acknowledge your right to your own destiny. If they don’t and try to block your path, gently and politely request that they move aside and support you in your passion. They may resist, but ultimately, if they can see that you are clear and committed to the path you are on, they should get behind you.
Now, I do not intend this advice to sound like you should become self-centred or self-obsessed. On the contrary, that would be a tragedy.
To counter the possibility of this and to give true depth and meani
ng to your life, you must develop an acute sense of compassion and service to others. Whilst pursuing your own goals you must take every opportunity to consider the welfare of others and do whatever is in your power to help and support them. You must also remain humble by giving back to society whenever the opportunity arises. It fills you with such a sense of purpose and belonging that it will make all other achievements all the more rich as they will have context. (You may not understand the concept of ‘context’ yet, but trust me it’s important!)
If you see someone who needs help, ask if you can help. They may refuse but give them the option. Try not to live your life asking only ‘What’s in it for me?’ There is so much more than you.
Finally, have FUN! Try not to lose the clown within. Laugh. Keep things light. This won’t always be possible but I believe you have a choice each day as to whether you are happy or not. Choose happy.
OK, you can go back to cricket now.
Lots of love to you,
Erik
Eva Orner is an Academy and Emmy Award-winning film producer and director. She grew up in Melbourne and is now based in Los Angeles. Her works includeUntold Desires, Taxi to the Dark Side, The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson and The Network. Her latest film, Chasing Asylum, a critical look at Australia’s offshore detention policies, premiered in April 2016. Her book about the making of the film, also called Chasing Asylum, was released in 2016 by HarperCollins.
Before we get serious, just a quick word of warning.
DO NOT get that haircut. At that really cool hair salon some of your friends went to. Where the stylist cut your hair unevenly, one side long and one side super short. DON’T DO IT. You will go home crying and your mum will ‘even it out’ and you will have a short bowl cut that makes you look like a ten-year-old boy for the next three months.
Now that’s out of the way, let’s get serious. It’s all going to be OK. Even better than OK. Here are some things you need to know:
Be kind. If you see someone at school who looks like they are having a hard time, say ‘hi’. Be nice. Be sweet. At worst you may make them feel a bit better. At best you may make a new friend.
Be interested in what’s happening around you and in other people. The world is more interesting than just you.
Ask questions. Never be embarrassed to ask questions.
People will say, ‘There are no stupid questions.’ Well, there are. Plenty of them, but IT DOESN’T MATTER. Better to ask a stupid question than not to ask.
Be curious. School is great but educate yourself as well. Read a wide variety of books. Read the paper every day. You’re old enough to do that now. It’s good to start developing a sense of what is happening in the world.
If something is interesting to you, pursue it. Don’t worry if your friends think it’s uncool. This is your time to be adventurous and try things out.
Fun is really important so find things that make you happy. Whether it’s music, cooking, dancing, singing, writing, being with friends. Make sure you have fun regularly and laugh a lot.
Don’t feel you have to be part of a gang. Some people like being in groups, some people don’t. Be authentic to what makes you feel good.
Don’t be afraid to fail. You can’t succeed all the time and if you don’t try you’ll never know. It’s so much better to try, fail and learn than to sit on the sidelines and maybe regret not trying later.
Don’t feel the need to be grown up till you are. Being a kid is fun and exciting. Stay being a kid as long as you can.
And, most importantly, don’t be too hard on yourself. You are OK.
Xx eva
Fiona Scott-Norman was born in England and moved to Australia in the 1980s. She’s a writer, satirist, broadcaster and columnist who contributes to The Age, The Australian, 774 ABC Radio and The Big Issue. She edited Bully for Them, published by Affirm Press in 2014, and has also had several comedy shows that have toured the country.
Dear Fiona,
Hello! Helloooo! Your older self here! Be a dear and put that book down for a moment. I know, I know, you’re right in the middle of a good bit, but I’m worth the effort. For one thing, it’s a letter, an actual letter, and I know you’re not getting many of those while you’re at boarding school. None, right? Awful. Well, this is just one of the things I want to talk to you about – Fiona to Fiona – from the perspective of a) being a grown-up now, and b) having finally asked Mum and Dad what the actual friggety hell was with them not writing to me at school.
(By the way, I swear a fair amount these days. It’s tremendous fun being older. You’ll love it.)
So. The reason you’re not getting any letters from home has nothing to do with you. It turns out that Mum is self-conscious about writing letters because she makes spelling mistakes. Maybe a bit dyslexic. Who knew? She’s worried about being judged, probably because Dad’s super shouty. And you’re so good at English, and Mum’s very proud of that, so she kind of doesn’t want you to know that she hasn’t the foggiest when ‘e’ goes before ‘i’, etc. Crazy, huh? So, look, you’re not going to get much mail for your entire seven years at boarding school, and I know that makes you feel very lonely, but it’s not because you’re not loved. You are loved so very much! Mum and Dad adore you, they’re just English and don’t know how to show emotion.
You will eventually teach both of them to hug.
And you know how when you ring home, and Dad answers the phone, and immediately says, ‘I’ll get your mother,’ and puts the phone down and walks off? That’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you. It’s because he doesn’t like talking on the phone. To anyone. But gosh he loves you. He thinks you’re the bee’s knees. I agree it’s hard to believe when his nicknames for you are ‘long streak of misery’ and ‘eldest unmarried’, but it’s true. He just never stopped being angry after the Second World War. If you can manage it, cut him some slack; he’s still having flashbacks to body parts and bombing raids.
You’re going to be fine. You don’t have to worry. Truly! Life will not suck like an abdominal leech indefinitely. There’s nothing wrong with you. I know it doesn’t feel like that. Your nickname is ‘Spider’, nearly everyone at school teases you, you’re a foot taller than all the boys, and it’s horrible being the most unpopular kid out of nearly 2000 students. Hanging around like limp lettuce on the edge of the dancefloor at school socials, and never being asked to dance.
(I found a photo of Andrew H a few days ago. I know he’s the apotheosis of spunkhood to you right now, but trust me, he’s a big spotty oik. You missed out on nothing.)
(Kevin B, however, was a sweetie. I suggest not defeating him that time you wrestle in the Fry House common room.)
But school will be over before you know it and, despite your fear, ‘deeply unpopular’ isn’t your brand for life. It also transpires that your giraffe-like legs are a drawcard once you grow into them.
(You will always have difficulty buying shoes, because even 40 years later a size 12 is ridiculous. However, your feet and hands are proportionate now, and no one ever laughs at them.)
Being an outsider at school, burying yourself in books, and making jokes to deflect the meanness will turn you into a writer and comedian. Everyone in your dorm marries early and pursues a safe profession, which frankly is a fate which would drive you bonkers with boredom. You, young lady, with your sharp tongue, hypersensitivity and smarts, are going to have an interesting life. I expect you’ll roll your eyes at this, but you are quite the package.
You will have breasts (eventually, they are comely and popular). You will never get a tan. Because you’re so awkward and visible, and attract unwelcome attention, you are supremely comfortable with being uncomfortable. This sounds terrible, but trust me it’s a gold standard attribute for a writer and performer. You’re going to have a long and powerful career as a theatre critic because your care factor about being highly visible and talked about is zero.
It is okay to not fit in. You try so hard to fit in, but you w
ill not find your tribe at a middle-class English boarding school in the 1970s. F*** no. Shy and miserable as you are, you are already a boundary pusher.
You will become Australian. (You will still never get a tan.) The bolder you get, the happier you are. You will love well. Now, back to that book!
Love,
Fiona
P.S. In December 1980, invest 100 quid in Apple shares. Yes, Apple. They make computers. Don’t ask questions, just do it.
Glen Christie has been a facilitator with the Reach Foundation for more than fifteen years, where he has created workshops that allow participants to feel safe to delve into their personal story, and reflect on what it is that they want in life and how to get there. Glen also works as an associate producer for MasterChef Australia.
Dear 13-year-old Glen,
I want to let you know first and foremost that you are a very funny and charismatic guy who doesn’t need to worry so much about the fact that you are gay. You are going to learn that it is actually something that will teach you to have understanding for others who are different. It will also mean that you will end up having a relationship with yourself that you couldn’t even imagine. One where you can say to yourself, ‘I am a good person.’ You can speak up for yourself, you can go for all the things you want in your life. The funny teeth you have that you never got braces on are something unique to you. So smile and laugh and don’t give a crap that they are crooked.
The biggest lesson I can give you, though, is to listen. Stop and really listen to what others are saying to you. Take the time to care about what other people are thinking and feeling: it is not always about you. If you do this you’ll find that others might just do the same for you.
Crying and being vulnerable are good. You are a sensitive little guy. Don’t hide it, always let it out. You will find that the courage to be honest will be hard, but it will mean that you have been true to yourself. Keep watching Disney movies – in your heart you are a kid, never lose the kid.
Letter to My Teenage Self Page 3
