When I was little, my parents would give me and my brother options. I often would get to choose first--one the many perceived benefits of sibling seniority--and when we moved into our new house, I was eight years old. I still remember my father walking me upstairs and asking me which room I wanted. I went back down the stairs and walked carefully up them again, turned deliberately left, walked straight, and then took an immediate right into the room at the end of the hall. "This one," I announced proudly. My father, bewildered about why his daughter would have ever taken the smaller of the two options, (without taking a single look at the rooms themselves), tried his hardest to convince me otherwise. "But look, Jackie. This one has two closets! And look how much bigger it is!" But I held my ground. And in a rare moment of quick decision making, I said "No! Spats will not be able to find it. To get to this one she has to take the same turns as the last house."
If only all decisions could be based on the habits of a beloved cat.
Other decisions, like choosing which sweater to keep (One must consider what a color choice says about a six-year old's character!) or which doll to have (Did she look more like me or less like me than the other one?) took far longer and involved a part of my heart that should not be connected to such small decisions. But for me, everything had something to do with who I was and what I wanted others to know about me. I didn't just want to HAVE things when I was little, I wanted to LOVE them. And I wanted them to define me.
I haven't changed.
Choosing a college involved tapping into my soul to determine which place FELT right. And choosing a wedding dress was a nightmare that tried the patience of every saleswoman in the region (Not to mention my mother). I have wanted everything I do and possess to be perfectly aligned with who I am.
A few years ago I was walking in the woods by myself, on a path only known to the deer and a few others. It's an easy path to find, but it's not an easy path to follow. If you look for it, you won't find it, and if you TRY to follow it, you'll miss it. You just have to let your instinct lead you and the path seems to rise from between the grasses and weave its way effortlessly through the trees. I love that path because it requires such an interesting and precarious balance between focus and concentration, perception, surrender, and faith. And ever since I discovered and articulated the only method by which that path can be followed, I've seen it as something of a metaphor for life.
Surrender. Perceive. Have faith. And be just mindful enough.
So, here I am: thirty-something. And for now, I've abandoned the prescribed and expected path towards marriage with children and a house in the suburbs. Surprisingly, I'm not unhappy. I'm not lost and I'm not depressed. But there doesn't seem to be a prescribed and expected path for me anymore--and that's both exciting and incredibly frightening.
This blog is in some ways my effort to follow that path without thinking too hard about it.
If only all decisions could be based on the habits of a beloved cat.
Other decisions, like choosing which sweater to keep (One must consider what a color choice says about a six-year old's character!) or which doll to have (Did she look more like me or less like me than the other one?) took far longer and involved a part of my heart that should not be connected to such small decisions. But for me, everything had something to do with who I was and what I wanted others to know about me. I didn't just want to HAVE things when I was little, I wanted to LOVE them. And I wanted them to define me.
I haven't changed.
Choosing a college involved tapping into my soul to determine which place FELT right. And choosing a wedding dress was a nightmare that tried the patience of every saleswoman in the region (Not to mention my mother). I have wanted everything I do and possess to be perfectly aligned with who I am.
A few years ago I was walking in the woods by myself, on a path only known to the deer and a few others. It's an easy path to find, but it's not an easy path to follow. If you look for it, you won't find it, and if you TRY to follow it, you'll miss it. You just have to let your instinct lead you and the path seems to rise from between the grasses and weave its way effortlessly through the trees. I love that path because it requires such an interesting and precarious balance between focus and concentration, perception, surrender, and faith. And ever since I discovered and articulated the only method by which that path can be followed, I've seen it as something of a metaphor for life.
Surrender. Perceive. Have faith. And be just mindful enough.
So, here I am: thirty-something. And for now, I've abandoned the prescribed and expected path towards marriage with children and a house in the suburbs. Surprisingly, I'm not unhappy. I'm not lost and I'm not depressed. But there doesn't seem to be a prescribed and expected path for me anymore--and that's both exciting and incredibly frightening.
This blog is in some ways my effort to follow that path without thinking too hard about it.
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