I didn’t know what to expect as I waited outside International Arrivals with my boys.
They chased each other, boxed, and took photos for about an hour. My energy gave out at about the 45 minute mark and I began to wane.
It’s not the clearest photo in the world but trust me when I say The Blur (my youngest) was wearing me out.
On the drive home from the airport, my husband played the U2 song Every Breaking Wave.
Like every broken wave on the shore
This is as far as I could reach
If you go your way and I go mine
Are we so helpless against the tide
Are we ready to be swept off our feet
And stop chasing every breaking wave
The sea knows where are the rocks
And drowning is no sin
You know where my heart is
The same place that yours has been
Have you ever had a definitive moment wherein you realized absolutely everything in your life had either changed already while you weren’t looking, or was going to have to be changed now?
The moment I made the first statement about accepting the change and agreeing to it, everything started to shift.
Then came the moment when it all ended.
I didn’t see it coming. Didn’t ask for it. Didn’t realize it was even happening until later.
There were a few precursor moments, where I began to take it in.
When the big moment itself arrived, I went to sleep that night peacefully and woke up in the middle of the night wondering if it was all a dream or if it had really occurred.
Events came back to me.
It happened, all right.
A couple of days later, I realized that I simply felt different. Better. No more anxiety. No more wondering or waiting.
For a person who spends most of her life with her head in the clouds in quiet contemplation, you’d think I might be more attentive to nuance.
The scales had fallen from my eyes, and I began to slowly digest what was happening. Not what I was being told was happening. What was actually happening.
There were a number of side threads running throughout my life that I had never noticed before.
If it had been happening to someone else, I would have put two and two together right away, as an observer.
I noticed that I felt differently about everything. It was as if I’d forgotten who I was and was just painting by numbers, playing the prescribed role.
When the role was taken away from me, I was standing there alone wondering why the entire world looked different. Why I didn’t respond in the same ways. Why some things suddenly looked really funny.
Tiny moments came back to me which helped weave the pattern.
Helpers came in from everywhere to point out where my choices, both conscious and unconscious, had led me to today.
Larry is a mouse and he has his own door at O’Sheas on Clematis Street in downtown West Palm Beach, where I spent my lunch hour with a colleague on a Friday afternoon.
Someone told me he loved me.
I’ve met more new people in the last few days than I probably have in the last few years.
A friend shared information that touched me to my core.
Invitations have been issued left and right to things I ordinarily would say,”No, I can’t,” to. Even though people know this and have long ago given up on asking me, suddenly they began to ask again.
I started to receive so many texts that I had to start checking who I was sending the responses to, in case it was the wrong person.
I had to brace myself against the house because I was so overcome in a moment.
In other words, life suddenly started to get far more interesting than it ordinarily is.
I believe all of these people and situations and opportunities started their influx simply because I agreed to the events life was forcing on me. Instead of standing around not knowing what to do, I began to embrace whatever happens next.
I am now willing to say,”Yes, I have time.” Not that I will make it, not that I choose something else instead that looks like my old life. Simply yes to whatever is new and different and wants to be shown into my sphere. The more unlike me it is, the more I am now apt to say yes.
When things don’t look right or seem fair, I am waiting them out. Sometimes you have that core, gut knowing that the time is not yet right and that you are not receptive enough. You sense that you will be, soon. Patience.
Bring Joy To The Situation
I don’t want to be someone’s #2 (or 3 or 4 or 10). I want to be chosen first.
Sometimes we float with what we have because it is familiar.
Sometimes we keep on keeping on with things just as they stand, because it is too inconvenient to make a change.
When was the last time you considered whether or not you were happy?
I can’t remember the last time I checked in on my happiness. I know that mainly because yesterday I was wondering what had come over me, and I realized the unfamiliar feeling was that I was happy.
I felt freedom and lightness of being.
At the beginning of the year I asked that joy be brought to the situation, and I remember specifically thinking that if joy could not be brought back in, then the situation couldn’t continue.
So, it stopped.
It didn’t stop in any way that I could have predicted or expected, and I didn’t like it (this falls under the “be careful what you wish for” category). I just assumed that the joy would be reinstated. I didn’t expect the answer to be no. I am pretty certain I never even truly considered it as a possibility.
The wonderful part is that joy is coming in. It’s coming in through many people, places and things that are completely unexpected.
As I go through the process of endings and many new beginnings over the next year or so, I wonder what life will look like.
I’ll bet it is completely different.