A few months ago, I had a life-changing experience that gave me a glimpse of my future. At the moment of this experience, I knew two things simultaneously: 1) Everything’s going to be okay and 2) I didn’t ever need to write another blog post.
So I quit writing. But I’ve been getting some requests for an explanation, so I’m going to give it my best shot here:
* I am constantly at battle with the desire to be understood and the reluctance to give of myself.
* Sometimes I forget that I should not swallow when I turn my head over to apply hair product. Swallowing when upside down makes the saliva run into my nasal cavity rather than down my throat. This feels just like getting chlorine up my nose when jumping in a pool. But there’s no chlorine in saliva. I don’t get that.
* I am slow of speech and quick of action. Some people regret saying too much. I regret saying too little. Sometimes I regret shoving things in cabinets and closing the door fast before anything falls out. But I have not yet regretted driving too fast.
* I think I am finally learning what it means to receive a blessing. Not just with my mind, not just with my heart, but with my body. And it’s reducing me because the bigness of it crushes me. The physical act of reception in spiritual matters is where I’ve kept myself guarded all these years.
* Everything has its pros and cons. But when love is a pro, it outweighs all cons.
* This constant introspection is not peaceful. Not peaceful. Not peaceful. It’s torture. And the inspecting of other people’s intros only adds to it. I am finding it an addiction much like sugar that I might as well inject straight into my veins and give my tired brain (and stomach) a rest.
* When all else fails, do a high kick.
Or maybe this will help explain things better: A few months ago I was in the dressing room of Forever 21, waiting for my daughter who is nowhere near 21 to finish trying on clothes and I caught a glimpse of my future. A mom, maybe ten years older than me was in the dressing room waiting for her three daughters, maybe ten years older than my three daughters. And those three lovely, young ladies all opened their dressing room doors at the same time to show their mom the dresses they were trying on for their youngest sister’s high school graduation. What I realized as I watched them was that they loved each other very much. The mom loved the daughters, the daughters loved the mom, the sisters loved each other. And the mom was still mom, even though the girls were older.
And suddenly I knew it was all going to be okay. Reduced to the simplicity I needed:
* I’ve had a pretty good life.
* My life right now is pretty good.
* In the future I’m still going to have a pretty good life.
One, two, three.
Everything’s going to be okay.
Why that means I lost my need to write, I’m not sure yet. But I’m doing what I need to do. Life’s pretty good and I’m going to direct my mullings elsewhere for now.
Thanks for reading.
Fierce Peace 