Often I hold the time to write out in front of myself like a present for the successful completion of any number of other tasks. It is my reward. As of late, there have been far too many of the other things to work through and I haven’t been finding myself here anywhere near this space as much as I’d like. It’s not a bad or a sad thing. All of the stuff standing in the way is, for the most part, by my design and choice and the result of my general enthusiasm and fire for being alive. I want to get it all in and then some.
For the last month or so all of the spaces in my days have been occupied by seasonal pursuits such as knitting hats and vests and gluing paper bag decorations and reading all of our favorite tomten and solstice books and getting out and into the snow when there is some. Today I have been baking all the dozens of cookies that I think will add the final pinch of winter cheer that we need for the longest night. Yesterday, we cut down a little tree and decorated the house and for the most part, I think that gifts are wrapped and everyone feels mostly satisfied. At least I do which probably counts for a lot.
One of the biggest ways that I spend my time is in reading aloud. Between reading books to Eider and now to Wilfred and sometimes to the whole crew, it is a giant piece of the pie in terms of how I spend my days. I probably read from anywhere to an hour to three hours a day out loud to my people. I am Reader. It should be in my bio. Anyhow, that is a lot and kind of a fantastic realization especially considering how the reading that I would love to do for just myself is, like writing, another thing that I dangle out in front of myself like a prize. And as much as I wish I read more for myself, I am so pleased to read all of what I do read and happy to share in the stories and the myths and the histories that are so very central to our family culture.
This consideration, of how I spend my time versus how I maybe wish I spent my time, has been a long and winding one for me for sure. I am working on shifting my perspective, with the help of Rachel Peters and all her wisdom, toward investing time instead of spending time. But it is a hard shift, most likely because presence is once again the task at hand.
It is such a game, you know? Wanting to be present with what is and also longing for something leagues and worlds and lifetimes away. Such inner conflict in that. I remember when Maple and Eider were small, and my uncle Slava shared his lament over his own relationship to the pull from when my cousins were little. He is an artist and my aunt was a pediatrician, now retired, and he stayed home with the kids while she worked. It was hard for him. And also wonderful. But he wanted to make art. And I imagine he wanted to do that uninterrupted and without taking all of the copious snack, activity, rest, and infinite other breaks that life with kids demands. But then, when he was reflecting back on that time, all he felt was the grief at having wished that time away- when their needs were so big and present and consuming- so that he could pursue his art. It’s so complicated. Even when you know how fleeting the time is, to not long for all of the other shit, besides parenting, that defines who you are and feeds your soul. I think for the most part I have been present with my kids. And yet I still feel the sting of the different times throughout their childhoods that I have longed for something that was truly neither here nor there.
Today, when I was getting Wilfred from his nap, he was so sweet and gentle and silly and imaginative as only a child under a certain age can be, and the moment was just so big and fleeting all at once and it just gets me, you know? All the way. I am just all sentimentality all the time complete with big crocodile tears and gulping laughter sobs. That is just how it is. Big big heart around here and an early indoctrination around the wellspring of pleasure to be found in the everyday moments with one another. I am not sure I know anything in the world that does that to me the way the temporal reality of raising babies and children does. It is painful and joyful and brutal and transcendent all mixed up together.
I heard Sam Harris say this at one of the end of his daily meditation recently: The goal of the practice is wisdom. The wisdom to recognize how things actually are in each moment. And stepping out of the fantasy life born of having a mind that is perpetually distracted.
This is the work, as far as I can tell. But I also think that it is of value to hold the tension of what is and what was and what could be with a measure of compassion and empathy and desire and heartbreak. I think that it cultures our humanity and also is where art is born. The art that comes alive in writing, in music, in sculpture, and in all manner of craft. It is, I have found, Yes, and.
This year has, of course, been a huge teacher of these dual truths. Two very large pieces of my personal identity and sources of immense joy in my life- that have historically been sometimes at odds with each other- have been full and alive. My children have all been with me and I have been with them. They are well and often content even without so much of what has occupied their lives up until the pandemic. Having a happy and funny toddler seems to help in this regard. A lot. He is presence personified. I have also been able to do more yoga as a student this year than I have in years and I have been able to do so without traveling away from my family and putting any additional strain onto their rhythms and schedules, which in the past was always the price. I have also felt a deeper and more consistent connection to longtime friends than I have in quite some time as we all convert the venue for our togetherness online. I have been in classes and practices with many people this year that I first practiced with over 20 years ago- what a wonder.
In many regards, I really do have a sense of having it all right now. Which I realize is somewhat off and makes me feel a little awkward to even say out loud. But I am a homebody. I am a social introvert. I love mothering. I love making. I love cultivating deep and tender sense of place. And I love practicing. I love connecting with folks around what is real and true for them. And all of this feels alive and well in my world right now. I guess what I am trying to say is that I am filled up with gratitude for what has been indeed the silver lining of this year for me. I feel grounded and relatively clear, even as I navigate what I know is the pervasive COVID cloud. And yet, I feel connected to my values, my passions, my curiosity, and also my joy. I have a good sense of how I want to refine and clarify some things moving into the New Year- but it doesn’t feel in any way like a course correction. And that feels very, very, good.
more soon.
xxx,m