In the Here and Now

I miss writing.  It’s funny that something that came so naturally for me, for the majority of my life, now feels so foreign.  I’ve been trying to write here and there, but I always end up abandoning it for some reason or another.  My goal is to write one post a month, just to get myself used to stringing words together.  Here we go…

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One of the hardest, but most important, lessons I learned in those years when Blythe was ill, and our family was falling apart, was to live in the here and now.  It can sometimes be an annoyingly overused phrase in parenting circles, but it is so very true: Happiness exists in living in the moment.

I wasn’t able to do that, before.  Things needed to be planned, structured and organized at all times.  And when, inevitably, things didn’t turn out as I’d hoped, I went through feelings of stress, anxiety and sometimes, if my expectations were high enough, I’d find myself grieving the loss of something that never existed anywhere but in my mind.

Let’s say expectations, hopes and dreams are differently sized helium balloons, and in my former life there were so very many that I couldn’t ever find solid ground.  I clung to them, and they lifted me ever higher so that I had to focus all of my attention on what was ahead, making sure nothing escaped my grasp.  I had this perception that holding on to them was what put me in control of my life, but in reality, my thoughts and emotions were ruled by the wind and its whims.

Years ago, I struggled to hold on even as those balloons slipped from my fingers, each more rapidly than the last, because I felt as though letting go would cause me to crash to the Earth and be shattered and broken.  But then, as the future I planned disappeared into the clouds, I realized how good it felt to have my feet on the ground for the first time in years.  Sure, I was a little battered and bruised, but stronger and wiser.  The few balloons that remained were no longer a burden that needed my constant attention, yanking me this way and that.  They just lightened my steps and gave me something pretty to look at.

If I were an artist, I’d paint hopes as the smallest and most understatedly beautiful balloons, dreams a bit bigger and more dazzling, and expectations as gigantic, garish balloons that are hard to maneuver around.  Seeing them for what they are, I have learned to live without expectations because they’re not worth the trouble.

I am happy in a way I never knew was possible.  With no expectations about how things will turn out, disappointment is impossible.  Each new experience is much like a small child’s delight in a game of peek-a-boo, and as a result I find joy in the smallest of things.  This past summer, I watched clouds create themselves out of tiny little wisps of nothing, gain momentum, and go off to join thunder boomers in the higher mountains.  Have you ever witnessed a cloud being born?  In my whole life I’d never experienced such a thing, and it was truly amazing.  Something I not only wouldn’t have taken the time to do, but probably wouldn’t have appreciated, in my former life.

The goals I’ve set are so much more realistic and rewarding, because I keep them in the form of hopes and work my way toward them, accepting changes as they come.  It’s crazy how opportunities present themselves in the smallest of ways, and when I’m paying attention I can see them for what they are.

I find myself in want of nothing, and in need of little.  I live a simple, modest life in a small home with few possessions, but my life is far richer than it has ever been.  I’m surrounded by beauty in every direction.  I am fascinated by my work and that makes me feel like I’m not even working.  The relationships I have with my daughters are better than I ever could have imagined, and I am so proud of who they are.  We share our little life with a very special man, who values in me the things I value most in myself, and that is a wonderful feeling.  We have the best dog, and three mildly annoying but affectionate cats.  As a family, the little moments we share each day bring us so much joy, and the hopes we have for our future are bright and clear.

My feet are planted firmly on the ground, where they belong, and I am living a life I never would have thought to dream for myself.  Looking back, I can see that letting go was the best thing I’ve ever done.