Reflection on a Year
Clearly, I am not a very avid poster, yet I've been thinking lately that it would serve me well to write more often if for no other reason than to document more of my days so that I might better remember them some day. I'd like to try and wrestle down the details of the year before they've escaped me. Cut for organization, and your friends' list.
As the holidays came and went, I found myself thinking about everything I was grateful for in my life. I did a lot of that in the last quarter of 2007; actively appreciating the beautiful people and moments in my life has made me feel a lot more complete. It's easy enough to let "things" get me down; insecurities, bills, pity-parties, disagreements, loss of companionship, and, to sum it up, the kind of shit that feels so cumbersome and unique but is really just a petty and common annoyance universally shared and loathed.
"Things" bother me less and less as time goes on. More often than not these days, I feel like my insides are bursting with love for the people around me. This is not to say I'm never annoyed or frustrated with them, but all in all, I feel very fortunate. I've gotten to know a lot of people in the past year whom I feel have significantly influenced my mind's workings and the quality of my life.
There's been Terrie the Rock-Climber whom I met through Craigslist. I would drive her between the train station and the Gunx, and we'd talk about travels, and families, and frustrations. She put things into perspective so well, and I'd always go home with so many new things to consider about my life and myself.
Working with Bill often did the same for me, especially in recent months we'd travel in my car for hours at a time to airports or other places and discuss our places in this world, what it is to love, spirituality, politics, why Miles Davis does it for us. I never before had a friend who was blind, and the technical aspects of getting around and trying to understand elements of our world from his perspective opened my mind and challenged me to negotiate various systems in new ways. So much mental stimulation in merely getting around, and in talking with him.
And then there are my "regular" families that I work for. I have been so inspired by the children I care for each week, and so grateful to their parents who have fed me, given me the liberty to take their kids on outings, accommodated my scheduling needs, and made other arrangements that allow me to work a manageable amount of hours while still having a roof over my head. They have called doctors for me when I've been ill, sent me home with bags of organic produce, put gas in my car when I forgot to and became stuck in their driveway. Two families who are friends have invited me to vacation with them on a lake for a few days this summer. I always pull out of their driveways with a light heart and a smile on my face.
Their kids I have come to love more than I would have thought possible. I go back and forth on whether I want my own some day, but have realized that if I could love my own children this much and more, then the frustrations and challenge of raising them must be worth it. How many people are paid to make octopus-shaped snacks and dance to James Brown for an afternoon? Sure, sometimes I am abused and tested and exhausted, but in the long run, all there is, is love. I love their chubby little faces and their belly laughs, and all their misunderstandings of our world (e.g., "Are clowns real?...Oh yea, I knew that, I was just, you know, checking.") Having know a lot of them for about a year and a half now, it's really cool to look back and see how much they've grown in that time. They're learning letters, losing their baby fat, becoming more coordinated, and dramatically changing before my very eyes. And it's just so cool to watch.
Then there are the friends closest to my heart, who listen to me bitch, and indulge my ridiculous whims, and surprise me with their own. They know who they are. They've sat around the kitchen table late at night with me, satiating drunken munchies and recounting the night's horrors/delights. They know the joy of impromptu dance parties, haphazard culinary experiments, misguided but not wholey unsuccessful attempts to fix things. There are others who live far away, whose letters offer support and comic relief during tough times, joy and inspiration with all other instances.
Perhaps these things are also not any more unusual than the peeves that creep into our lives. Perhaps it is not so exceptional to have people who share their stories, their food, their sticky hands, their love with you. Perhaps it is not so unusual to have people to talk to, a falling down home to call your own, a sky that has both a sun and a moon, a job that invites not luxury but inspiration into your life. I really can't be sure. But I know what is mine for this moment in time, and if should be the only one who finds these assets so exceptional, I am no less elated.
In the pursuit of stability and happiness, material things have not impressed or satiated me. Loss of property hasn't killed me, upheaval of the familiar has not destroyed me. With each set of unforeseen events, helpful or hurtful, my life has rolled forward, and will continue to do so. I know I have loved and been loved, and that my heart has not been this full in many years. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
As the holidays came and went, I found myself thinking about everything I was grateful for in my life. I did a lot of that in the last quarter of 2007; actively appreciating the beautiful people and moments in my life has made me feel a lot more complete. It's easy enough to let "things" get me down; insecurities, bills, pity-parties, disagreements, loss of companionship, and, to sum it up, the kind of shit that feels so cumbersome and unique but is really just a petty and common annoyance universally shared and loathed.
"Things" bother me less and less as time goes on. More often than not these days, I feel like my insides are bursting with love for the people around me. This is not to say I'm never annoyed or frustrated with them, but all in all, I feel very fortunate. I've gotten to know a lot of people in the past year whom I feel have significantly influenced my mind's workings and the quality of my life.
There's been Terrie the Rock-Climber whom I met through Craigslist. I would drive her between the train station and the Gunx, and we'd talk about travels, and families, and frustrations. She put things into perspective so well, and I'd always go home with so many new things to consider about my life and myself.
Working with Bill often did the same for me, especially in recent months we'd travel in my car for hours at a time to airports or other places and discuss our places in this world, what it is to love, spirituality, politics, why Miles Davis does it for us. I never before had a friend who was blind, and the technical aspects of getting around and trying to understand elements of our world from his perspective opened my mind and challenged me to negotiate various systems in new ways. So much mental stimulation in merely getting around, and in talking with him.
And then there are my "regular" families that I work for. I have been so inspired by the children I care for each week, and so grateful to their parents who have fed me, given me the liberty to take their kids on outings, accommodated my scheduling needs, and made other arrangements that allow me to work a manageable amount of hours while still having a roof over my head. They have called doctors for me when I've been ill, sent me home with bags of organic produce, put gas in my car when I forgot to and became stuck in their driveway. Two families who are friends have invited me to vacation with them on a lake for a few days this summer. I always pull out of their driveways with a light heart and a smile on my face.
Their kids I have come to love more than I would have thought possible. I go back and forth on whether I want my own some day, but have realized that if I could love my own children this much and more, then the frustrations and challenge of raising them must be worth it. How many people are paid to make octopus-shaped snacks and dance to James Brown for an afternoon? Sure, sometimes I am abused and tested and exhausted, but in the long run, all there is, is love. I love their chubby little faces and their belly laughs, and all their misunderstandings of our world (e.g., "Are clowns real?...Oh yea, I knew that, I was just, you know, checking.") Having know a lot of them for about a year and a half now, it's really cool to look back and see how much they've grown in that time. They're learning letters, losing their baby fat, becoming more coordinated, and dramatically changing before my very eyes. And it's just so cool to watch.
Then there are the friends closest to my heart, who listen to me bitch, and indulge my ridiculous whims, and surprise me with their own. They know who they are. They've sat around the kitchen table late at night with me, satiating drunken munchies and recounting the night's horrors/delights. They know the joy of impromptu dance parties, haphazard culinary experiments, misguided but not wholey unsuccessful attempts to fix things. There are others who live far away, whose letters offer support and comic relief during tough times, joy and inspiration with all other instances.
Perhaps these things are also not any more unusual than the peeves that creep into our lives. Perhaps it is not so exceptional to have people who share their stories, their food, their sticky hands, their love with you. Perhaps it is not so unusual to have people to talk to, a falling down home to call your own, a sky that has both a sun and a moon, a job that invites not luxury but inspiration into your life. I really can't be sure. But I know what is mine for this moment in time, and if should be the only one who finds these assets so exceptional, I am no less elated.
In the pursuit of stability and happiness, material things have not impressed or satiated me. Loss of property hasn't killed me, upheaval of the familiar has not destroyed me. With each set of unforeseen events, helpful or hurtful, my life has rolled forward, and will continue to do so. I know I have loved and been loved, and that my heart has not been this full in many years. Thank you, thank you, thank you.