“I feel like after a certain age, probably at least 30, every single one of us could write a memoir with the title Not What I Had Planned.” – Elizabeth (Liz) Gilbert said in this interview. It’s so true! And I have arrived at that certain age. Out with the old to trust in the unknown.
We took Liliu to the Seattle Gymnastics Academy for indoor free play. The first thing she said the next morning was: we are going to the trampoline place again (she doesn’t know how to ask a question yet so it’s a statement).
To me it was a fun hour and something I’ll mention on Monday as chit chat. But for her, it must be such an amazing experience that the first thing she knows in the morning, is that she wants to do it again.
When was the last time I got up and knew what I wanted to do? When was the last time I got up and knew I wanted to do something fun? I’m not sure I know what fun is for me! Reading is fun. Writing or sewing are a type of “fun labor”. When was the last time I got up and asked, or decided, or even thought to, do something fun?
No. As an adult holding down a job, as a mom, you sacrifice that thought. You sacrifice what you want to do, to accommodate what your kid and your family, want to do. You give up noticing what you think is fun. You give up asking for what is fun for you (unless you know it will also be fun for someone else in the family). Because you knew the cost all too well: if you really wanted to do something that’s fun for you, simple as watching TV or reading a book, the wanting makes you impatient and snap at your child. The child cannot control their desire, expression or temper. And you don’t want to rush them to that. So in order to be fully available, present and patient for your child, you sacrifice your desire of fun, even your attention on what would be fun for you. You brush it off like the crumbs your toddler left on your sweater.
But these are crumbs back to yourself. We may only get crumbs and tiny pockets of time, but they are important. Without the crumbs, we go too far and lose sight of who we are, and then we don’t know how to be with ourselves any more. And we get hungry. Those crumbs keep us alive.
I looked up and saw the sun wearing a rainbow halo, dressed up like an eye, looking right into my heart. To my surprise my heart waved back, as if to an old friend. Now I’m really an outsider. They are beings of the same level, speaking a silent language I don’t follow. Except one thing was apparent: my worried thoughts evaporated in the presence of their reunion. Because the thoughts are social conditioning and not part of the universe’s logic.
And what is the universe’s logic? They know; I don’t. I wish they could tell me. Actually I think they do, but not verbally. It’s something to feel and tune into, with our hearts.
The sun and my heart knew the answers to my struggles, and somehow that was enough. It was enough to know that they know, because I know they’re watching.
This painting is generally how Fridays make me feel (at least before the day actually happens). May we return to being serene, happy, rich and vibrant, colorful, sensitive to pleasures, connected and in love with nature, ourselves, and others whom we love and whom love us. Not just on Fridays and weekends, but at any moment on any day. And a latte with latte art is welcome always!
*This lovely painting is found along the entrance of Daylight Mind Cafe in Kona, HI.*
Now that I love snorkeling, I think it’s a great thing to do in the sea of my feelings and emotions. I used to go into it like I’m trying to sort out my closet but without a plan. If I snorkel though, I keep breathing, I don’t touch anything, and I keep my eyes wide open just to look and to watch. I stick my head out to check my surroundings. And if I start to get physically uncomfortable or tired, I get out. Stay curious, stay alert, stay safe!
Yesterday I heard about a 90 year old man who decided and planned to end his life yesterday. He has no family or friends left except his amazing neighbors for decades, who helped him through the process and witnessed him end this journey. I think it’s a very good thing he has that option. Yet, something about it lingers. If I were in his position, what if in the last minute I realize I’m going to miss this world? I went for a walk and saw some cherry blossoms. And it all conspired into me making this little video and the poem below. Anyway, even without the story, I think it’s beautiful and I think you’ll like it.
Every time one of you fly by
I thought you were a butterfly.
I held a bunch of you like
a fluffy little chick.
But you won’t last, not like this.
So you hop on the breeze and fly
away. Beautiful in life,
Beautiful all the way,
Each of us participate in creating the experience and perception of the world we each live in. Someone who has been met with more kindness will see the world as a kinder place. This past week I’ve been treated to a lot of gratitude from clients and it feels amazing. They could have been thankless, take advantage of me and I would still bend to their every wish (because I’m an ISFJ who must do things right and do things well). So those who take the time to write a short (or long in one case!) message that expresses their gratitude beyond the usual “Thank you”, I am glad and grateful for them in return. Not only have they given meaning to my job, they are making the world a better place for me. And I’m sure they value many others in their life too, which means they are doing the major work of making the world a kinder and friendlier place.