It's such an easy thing to talk about being happy with where you are. But it's equally as easy to see something else up ahead, and want to rush and be there. Being a mother has given me so many gifts, but perhaps one of the greatest gifts has been this daily practice of slowing down. It's hard to explain, but to me at least, because I see time slipping by every single day with all of the changes my these babies go through (crawling, standing up, walking, talking- it's all so fast), I feel like I have this a very clear view and a very strong pull to stay in the now, and just be in the now. But at the same time it's so very hard to do so. So I'm working on that lately, practicing just being here. It sounds so simple but really, it's hard to just be. It takes focus. When I'm playing with the boys I'm playing with the boys. No distractions, no phone, please. I try to clear my head and just play, stop thinking about what I read earlier or what I have to do later. Watch Charlie's face as he discovers something new, see Henry run and jump and swing off the monkey bars. Things I normally see and do but all of this without being somewhere else, even half of me. Presence is a gift my children deserve and I want to always be mindful of this. When I'm sitting here writing words I try and do the same. Close the door (it's almost always nighttime and everyone is asleep anyway), keep the lights low and just try and capture whatever it is right here in this box. Or on those pages. When I'm cooking I want to really cook, to taste the lemon I'm squeezing over the dish, to smell the garlic simmering on the stove. I don't know, it all sounds so silly to type out but recently I've just felt like I want more out of every experience I have. It's been such a weird year, so much loss and this past month there's been so much more. 2014 has been a strange one, I've never been happier but also never experienced a lot of the emotions I've been feeling. And in the middle of the spectrum, one end happy and one end so sad, there's a great awakening in there. Something reminding me that none of us know what's next or how much time we have. And without dipping into the most cliched version of myself I have to say that all I can think about is how short this all is, and even shorter when we realize that there are no guarantees. This whole idea has its own spectrum too, with a very happy side (you only live once, so do it all) and a very sad side (you only live once, you can't do it all) and I think right now I'm just in the middle of that too, paddling my way along and figuring out what I can do, and being reminded with every loss of a friend or family member, or family member of a friend, that we don't even know how much time we have in our hourglass that's constantly emptying. So while I'm here I just want to be here, you know? So that's what I'm practicing right now- practicing the art of really being where I am and really doing what I do.
How about you?
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