Saturday, November 2
I collect them like stones, like pretty shells carried back from the beach. They are mantras, manifestos, codes of honor, words to live by.
To pay attention: that is our endless and proper work. -Mary Oliver
These are our few live seasons. Let us live them, as we can, in the present. -Annie Dillard
You can only love the life you wake up to. -Karen Maezen Miller
These are my darlings, my dearest. The stones I've worried smooth from fingering, hand in pocket, again and again. I gather comfort from their meaning. They all whisper the same thing.
Wake up. Be here. Be now. Be present.
It's so simple. Where else would I be? It's the hardest thing. I'm hard-wired to run away, my thoughts like wild horses carrying me far and fast. I reject, push away, dig in my heels, protest.
Anything but here, now. This chaos. This energy I haven't chosen. This uncomfortable feeling. This exhaustion. This fear that I am not, will never be enough. These boys growing up too fast and not nearly fast enough. This boredom.
But, also, precisely: this. This moment. This feeling. This breath. This body. This embrace. This mess.
If I learn to chose it, truly and fully, I gain everything.
And so I practice, like a little girl with her scales, saying yes. Small yeses that will grow into big yeses. Embracing the moment, just as it is. Accepting myself, just as I am.
Learning. To be present. For my life.
Learning to choose my life. Over and over again. Every day.
My endless, proper work.
Playing along with Amanda's November Prompt-A-Day.