Missing Now

So when you find yourself becoming anxious about the “defining moment”, and how your Now moments will culminate, consider the lessons that you are learning, and need to learn, in the process.
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In addition to being a wife and mother, one of the things that I pride myself on is building a legacy for my children, one built on a solid partnership with my husband.  We do our best to regularly discuss our mutual and individual goals, purpose, and our respective trajectories on various components of our lives.  In our most recent powwow, I shared with him that while I felt good about the broader portfolio of writing that I had been developing, I was also anxious about what is to come, and what will transpire between now and then – when that elusive “defining moment” unveils itself.

This discussion gave way to the whole concept of “Now”, and begged the question of whether I was truly living in the Now.  I’m sure many of you have heard a lot about the “fierce urgency of now”, and its characterization in speeches by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and later, President Barack Obama.  Then, there’s also  The Power of Now , by Eckhart Tolle (by the way, I have not read the book, though it is part of our home library).  My insight on this subject, however, takes on a less political, but definitely more personal meaning as I contextualize it against the backdrop of my life anxieties.

So many times, we become consumed by our own angst, which occurs as a result of our preoccupation about what’s to come – the future, the what-ifs.  As such, our success and happiness are hinged in the conditional.  The attainment of our deepest desires becomes dependent on a condition.  If we could only lose ten pounds, get our hands on more money, find the right mate, were there instead of here, had that job instead of this one, if only we had more time, if only we got published :o, then, and only then would we realize true happiness.  Inarguably, we could all use more time and resources (financial or otherwise) to iron out the kinks, to improve and implement our plans, but we actually lose time when our minds overlook the Now. Moreover, we miss the beauty around us as well as the opportunity to create meaning.

While it is important to plan, and to work toward a certain goal, we must develop a deeper understanding of how our Now moments fit into the larger plan.  A series of Now events must take place along the journey before we can proceed to the next level.  Furthermore, the cultivation of, and engagement in, these moments as well as the required stillness will surely prepare us for more, for greater, for the destinations that lie further ahead.  Too much anxiety about what’s to come only heightens our sense of paranoia, resulting in fitful nights of sleep, thereby causing an unshakeable anxiety which ultimately renders us unable to move forward anyway.

So when you find yourself becoming anxious about the “defining moment”, and how your Now moments will culminate, consider the lessons that you are learning, and need to learn, in the process. What you take away from them may very well define how you will handle what you call success.  Appreciate how this Now moment is preparing you for what’s to come.   Being in the Now teaches us some important lessons, including not taking our success for granted, humility, and patience.  Also, it quietly affords us the reflection that we may not have when the rapid pace of success takes off!   Now you know what I know: Now is a very necessary path in the greater unfolding of our ultimate dreams, hopes, and visions.

Now is fleeting, so hurry…you don’t want to miss it!

 

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Yay Me!

How many times have you turned on the stove to boil water for tea, to remember that you did so only when you actually heard the whistle?  Too many times, I manage my day based on what screams for my immediate attention.  “The squeaky wheel gets the grease”, goes the old saying, but today I vowed to take care of the bigger and more critical matters that would transport us well into the future and pay dividends for our family in the long run.  Though less demanding and intrusive, I knew that these matters had the potential to bubble over as they seemed to only require that I check on  them sporadically as they were now on a slow, less threatening simmer setting. 

I find myself wanting to streamline my visible spaces, and de-clutter them in a big way as their physical existence beckons for my touch.  I look at everything in my home with a keen eye, asking myself whether it should stay or go.  I’m on a mission to give away the things in our home that can bless others, discard the stuff that nobody would want, and organize what’s left. 

Lately however, despite my deepest desires to cut the clutter and trim the fat in more places than one, I’ve had to become much more disciplined about managing my time versus organizing my tangible space and things to ensure that the “must-do’s” don’t fall through the cracks.  As a result, I’m left with very little time to focus on the “nice-to-do’s”, including any major de-cluttering.  Since I’m not diagnosed OCD – self or medically – you don’t have to worry about finding me on my hands and knees cleaning out corners or color-coding towels in the linen closet.  After all, I’d hate to raise the bar too high. 🙂 Nonetheless, I’ve had to become more diligent and discerning about those matters that should command my time and attention, versus those matters that only seem urgent because of their visibility. 

So today, while I didn’t do a whole lot of organizing or de-cluttering, I was most definitely in the zone!  I rode that wave of productivity and held her hostage until she said “I surrender! No mas! Qué quieres de mί, mujer?” 🙂  I so needed a day like today.  Though it began with my being less bright-eyed and bushy-tailed than usual, I felt really good.  Like most mornings, I am so happy to be alive when I wake up, that I’d jump to kiss the sun if I could…especially after a really great cup of coffee!  Seriously.  I revel in the knowledge that I’ve been given another day, another tabula rasa…another chance to get it right.  What unseats me more than being sleep-deprived is not being productive.  When I know that I’ve procrastinated long enough on something, and can’t find the words to explain why, I feel less than adequate, because I have only myself to blame.  So despite my needing a few additional hours of sleep, I was determined to make it a good day, to organize myself versus my things, to be productive, to be at peak performance, and I would not, and did not, settle for anything less! 

Should I learn tomorrow that some things did, in fact, fall through the cracks, I will chalk it up to them just not being all that important in the first place.  Today’s clarity will not be contested.  I still might not get the doctor-recommended, coveted eight hours of sleep tonight, but I will rest well with the contentment that came from a day well-lived.  Yay me!  Everyone needs a “yay me” day.

Chocolate Communion

A chocolate fountain in Brussels
It's not what you think! Chocolate Fountain in Brussels
 

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I have a confession to make: I’ve been eating way too much chocolate.  Sometimes a fun-size or bite-size chocolate will do, but this indulgence is on a whole different level, Lord.  The sad truth is that there is nothing fun about having cheap chocolate!  These “over-the-counter” versions only lure me in, tease me, and leave me still wanting more…of the really good stuff.  Hershey, Whitman’s chocolate and Russell Stover seem so anticlimactic when what I really crave is Fannie May or Godiva.  And for some reason, the only words I can discern when these cravings hit are “Go get Go Diva girl!”:-

Just when I thought I kicked the chocolate crave, and reined in my willpower to stay the course, my husband walks in with these bite-sized pretzel pieces. Well, I’ll be damned!! He bought bread! Pardon me, but bread is the last thing I need, especially not the white-flour Auntie Anne’s variety. Perfectly salted and buttered, these little dough balls look like fried dumplings and seem to call out to me in first soprano: “Eat me! Eat me!” Daggone it! I start feeling guilty because I really don’t see how I’m going to resist this one. Not this time. My hormones are all over the place, and I really don’t see me going to bed without partaking, even if only just one. Forgive me! These are bite-sized pretzels, right? Bread is my kryptonite. It undoes me as it makes its quick and direct descent to my hips! And this is all before my son’s birthday party, where I’m presented with my next deadliest form of Bread…Birthday cake! What is a girl to do, Lord?

To make matters worse, and for reasons that I won’t explain here I need forgiveness as I’ve taken a brief imposed hiatus from exercise. This is problematic, as exercise fuels me like nothing else. It is an integral part of my daily living and provides me with the ultimate endorphin release like no synthetic drug can. As I achieve fitness gains, I get stronger both mentally and physically. Even on my worst day, I’m ready to kick anyone’s badonkadonk after a good workout, so if someone is going to bring the funk, it better be their “A” game, baby! Another great benefit of exercise is that it keeps my metabolism in check, making indulgences for chocolate and bread fewer and farther between. So imagine what I feel like when I’m forced to sit on the sidelines eating Kit Kat, Twix and Wetzels Wonderful Hot Soft Pretzels dipped in hot melted butter!  Things can get a bit off-kilter, to say the least.

The bread, chocolate, and cake are meant to comfort me, as well as balance what I think are erratic serotonin levels, but too much of the sweet sensations leave me in a quandary about whether I needed them in the first place. Maybe I didn’t need any of these things; not the bread, chocolate or birthday cake. Perhaps what I needed to do was dance to some Rihanna, read a few pages of Toni, or pick up the phone and comfort a friend for a few minutes. Or I could just simply…write.

Forget about it, I think what I’ll have is a good glass of wine. Scratch that! I’m going to have a glass of Six Grapes Port, the really good stuff.  And darn that, I’ll have it with piece of cake…make that chocolate cake.  Hallelujah, and thank you Jesus!  That’s Communion.

Esperanza Spalding Wins Best New Artist at 2011 Grammys

Sundays at Sunset

Rhode Island
Sunset, somewhere in Rhode Island

Today, I’m doing my adaptation of the emotion that the songwriter must have been trying to evoke when she wrote “Rainy Days and Mondays always gets me down“. I actually like rainy days and Mondays;  it’s Sundays that are posing a bit of a problem.  Sundays are supposed to mark a departure from the routine of the week. Largely unscripted, Sunday is an opportunity for our family to just relax, be with each other, and nestle a bit.  Given a lighter schedule, I can crochet, pick up a book or my nook, do a bit of laundry if I’m so inclined, polish my toes, cook a Sunday dinner – or not, listen to music louder or longer than I usually do, let hubby and the kids sleep in a bit later than usual, and get out of my PJs when I’m good and ready.  These are things that I love about Sunday.  I just don’t think that this part of Sunday is quite long enough.  It seems that it comes to a screeching halt without my asking.  I dread the feelings of melancholy that sweep over me, rather abruptly, once the most exciting, but simple part, is over.  The pending return to normalcy and routine gives me a swift kick in the rear to remind me of what now needs attending so the “work” week can get off to a smooth start.  Go figure.

Indeed, there’s no day quite like Sunday.  It seems to be the most civil and tempered of the two-day weekend.  Family dinners, church hats, and football games are but a small part of the color scheme for several on this day of the week.  Admittedly, this is a day for relaxation,  reflection and grounding,  and re-upping on depleted stores of energy, drive, and determination so that the upcoming week will be even better and more productive than the last.  As such, Sundays very definitively, play an important role in making life that much more interesting, balanced, whole…and I want much more of it,  minus the Super Bowl.

“Stay a Little While, Child”, Loose Ends

Home Sweet Home

 

Rewind!!! Pic by my Bud(dy) Walter James

We’re through with the most fretful part of this snowstorm, I hope.  The refrain was unanimous – this is The Storm, one that could break an over 40-year record in 1967, when over two feet of snow fell for miles and miles.  This storm has blanketed a great stretch of the country, from Texas to Maine.  We certainly got more than our fair share here in the Midwest.  The temperatures are also bitterly cold, and will make for a less than eventful clean-up and lots of ice afterward.

It’s Day Two of being housebound with the children and I’ve stocked up on the essentials, as well as a few goodies – buttermilk for baking a cake, snacks, juiceboxes, water, some canned items, fruit, veggies, water, and everything else we may need including batteries, flashlights, candles, and Duraflame logs.  Admittedly, this was all a bit frightening at first.  My youngest daughter thought it would be great to make snow angels, but she’s so tiny that she’d fall right through. Some areas around my home exceed 22 inches, and there are drifts that are taller than my friend and neighbor, who has got to be at least six feet.  That’s even more troubling for us vertically-challenged folk!

I am going bananas inside!  I haven’t been able to go anywhere, and now I have a wicked case of cabin fever.  I love my little darlings and being with them, but what’s love got to do with it? I want out!  Snow is anything but picturesque when it’s parked on your front lawn, driveway, backyard, and in front of your door.

I usually spend little to no time talking about anything that’s less than joyful, but I just wanted to paint a picture and give you a backdrop for this morning’s post.  I get really bad cabin fever when I am indoors for too long. I become irritable, get the blues, and freak out as if the walls are closing in on me.  This seems to be more pronounced during adverse weather events.  I noticed this shortly after giving birth to my first child, who will soon be eleven years old.

While in the hospital, and severely medicated (death to Percocet and Darvocet!), I would look out the window, and all I could see was snow, ice, and slow, crawling traffic. The cars looked like little Matchboxes and the overhanging branches looked like they could snap under the weight of the ice.  Here I was, in this white box of a hospital room, with nurses coming by every few hours to ensure that I took my meds and had a bowel movement.   Come on, already! After 22 hours of labor and an emergency C-Section, I was becoming doubtful about this whole “Joy of Giving Birth” thing.  Though I was excited about the event of being a first-time mother to this most-gorgeous, round-face, bright-eyed little boy, I was anxious about taking him home in this dreadful weather.  Sadly so, I was also feeling a bit of paranoia take over me. To this day, I swear it had to do with being couped up inside a room for so long. Those five days felt like forever. I just wanted to go home!  Could I be experiencing post-partum?

Five days later, I was feeling a bit of the same even though I was home. Having a C-Section limits your movement and activity, to say the least, so again, I was inside. No white walls or box this time, but inside nonetheless. My husband (bless his heart),  started to notice what was happening , and insisted that I go outside regularly, even if I only stuck my head out the window for a few minutes!  A little fresh air would make all the difference, he maintained.  But now, as in February 3, 2011, where the heck am I supposed to step outside for some fresh air? The fresh air is as freaking cold as a naked witch’s tit in February!  What’s so fresh about that?  I.WANT.SPRING!  Day O!   Okay, okay, now that I’ve bitched about how terribly cold it is, and how dreadful this snow storm is, and about my cabin fever, I feel better.

But now, let me also share with you some of the blessings, the small beauties, of being housebound with my three children during this time.  We’re all healthy.  We have our medicines on hand should anyone go into an asthma attack.  We have warm shelter. Though we can all tell that it is certainly colder outside when we’re not wearing socks, the furnace is working.  We have food, flashlights (and batteries), as well as a generator should the power go out. (Oh Lawd, heaven help us all if I can’t figure out how to use it! )  We have a connection to the outside world – what do you think I’m doing here, talking to you?  – internet, phone, television. We have running water, clean clothes, and enough to do to keep us sane. The children have been reading, playing video games, watching TV, eating me out of house and home, playing tag, playing with toys, writing, and painting. Let me clarify that only the girls, ages 5 and 2, were painting and writing. The  2 year old is very confident about her scribbling as she is about her finger painting.  As for the 5 year old, she can paint and write all day, if you let her.  My oldest child, a boy,  isn’t a fan of creative arts, per se. He is my big-picture child.  Don’t ever bore him with backdrop.  “Put it back, and drop it…please Mom.”  😮 (I’d like to have an applause audio right here, instead of that ordinary smiley face.)

I have received more hugs, more closeness, and more love than I can stand. I have been introduced to a 1,000 year old snake, the star of a story written and illustrated by my 5-yr old, and bore witness to the nuptials of him and his “beautiful snake girl”. I’ve received a love letter from her as well, bearing that she’ll love me “no matter what”.  It closes with “you are the most loving mother in the world.” Aww…was I complaining about cabin fever? Over the course of the last two days, my 2-yr old has told me that I’m the “best mommy ever”, in the “whole wide world” at that, and my 10 yr old son has taken to reading my nookcolor, and even convinced me to download a book for him – something about Percy Jackson – which he has been reading, in earnest.  Hey, life ain’t half-bad.  Small beauties.

So I’m going to kick cabin fever as I would kick rocks, because there just ain’t no joy in staying at that layover for too long. Instead, I’ll treasure these moments, these small beauties, for when my children are good and grown, I’m certain that I’ll miss “snow days”.  I will crave their closeness as they grow and go their own ways, and will long for their love letters which make me feel so good inside, even when I don’t always get it right. I am sure that that day will come, so in the meantime, I will let them love me, as only young children can – with randomness, compassion, forgiveness, and innocence, all at once – even when I am stuck inside, surrounded by less-than-picturesque mountains of snow.