Is That What I Truly Want?

In the many years we have known each other, I‘ve always heard my friend Caroline complain of the fact that she lives alone and has no children. Yet, every time she comes to my house for the day – and is exposed to the zoo of family life for more than an hour – she is ready to bolt out the door and find the peace and solitude she habitually claims to hate.
I often hear people complain about everything; their spouses, their homes, their jobs, their children, the time they spend alone. As humans, we spend a great deal of our time focusing on, and complaining about, what we don’t have, never really ready to acknowledge the fact that what we do have is truly what’s right for us.
We behave similarly in relation to weather conditions. In the winter we dream of being somewhere warm; we complain of the cold and rain, and can hardly wait for the dog days of summer, when, once again, we’ll be able to shed the heavy clothes and feel the hot kiss of sunshine on our skin. Yet, as soon as summer comes - after just a few weeks - we complain of the heat, and talk dreamily of the cool weather we will experience in the fall and winter.
Opposite conditions allow us to appreciate what we normally take for granted.
Many can relate to the excitement felt when company is ready to come visit; we plan wonderful moments and are eager to catch up on conversations; yet, after a few days, we are ready to claim back the life we had, our routines, our moments alone. It’s not that we don’t love the company, but we are ready to be back in our own space.
Ultimately, if we never lost our jobs, we’d never appreciate the sense of security which derives from being employed; if we never had a day of rain, we’d never appreciate a day of sunshine; if we never had anyone treating us wrong, we’d never recognize, or appreciate, a true friend when he or she comes along.
We can choose to look at our seemingly unfulfilled lives and experiences as a sentence we are forced to serve, but by doing so we only rob ourselves from the opportunity of being happy.
At times, changes are in order and can improve our lives, but often we simply need to make an honest assessment of how much we truly wish for things to be altered. We can begin by asking ourselves if our lives would be better or worse if we take a different turn.
When we look at the neighbor’s grass, and wish it was our own, we should also ask ourselves if we’d be happy and ready to commit to the daily amount of work required to keep it so green.

Star Light, Star Bright...

Have you ever wished for something so badly your whole body ached at the thought of it? I know I have, many times in the past.
Fourteen years ago, when I was trying desperately to have a baby, the thought of becoming a mother ruled my every waking moment; I hoped, prayed, read and wished, but every month my hopes were dashed. Then, one day I went to lunch in the cafeteria of the hotel I worked at, and Mabel, an old lady who worked in housekeeping, asked me why I looked so sad. When I told her, she smiled and said: “You just have to stop the wishing.”
That night I went home and thought about what Mabel had said. How could I stop the wishing? I wanted a baby more than life itself, and I couldn’t imagine thinking about anything else; it had been two years since I first started trying, and by now I had fused with the obsession of it.
About a month after that, I received a wonderful new job opportunity, so I got very excited and my thoughts focused on the new turn in my career. I even told myself that it was probably a good thing I hadn’t become pregnant yet, and for once my timing was maybe in order.
I started my new job and loved it; I loved the people I worked with, my sunlit office and the considerable increase in pay. A week later I found out I was pregnant.
When I first looked at the positive pregnancy test, I sat there dumbfound. Mabel’s words came rushing back to me, and I smiled, thinking she was right after all. I had stopped the wishing for a little while; by finding something else to focus my thoughts on, I had released the pent-up energy I had accumulated around my wish of becoming a mother.
By releasing the thoughts, all I had left was the true wish in the heart; by distancing myself from its unfolding, I had insured its success.
I thought about all the things I had wished for and let go of; the ones that truly meant something to me had come through in due time.
As a cake which won’t rise if one looks at it, so wishes stall when one obsesses about them. Holding on to dreams does not mean forfeiting the quality of present life in favor of remaining stuck in the quicksand of a wish. We can dream, and hope in our hearts our dreams will come true, still going through the motion of enjoying the good things of our daily lives.
What Mabel taught me was priceless, and even if I ever wanted to forget her words, they would always jump at me anytime I simply glimpse at my three wonderful children.

Our Mad Rush to Nowhere

While driving home from the City Cemetery, yesterday, I turned on the radio and scrolled through the stations to find a good tune; to my surprise, I found a Christmas song!
I am a Christmas enthusiast - and really get wrapped in the festivities - but that was a bit much, even for me. Tuning in to Christmas on the day after Halloween seems a bit of a mad rush; what about Thanksgiving?
That got me thinking about how much we rush through life; ready to jump on the next bus, eager to put the present in the past so we can focus on the future ahead. More times than not, we live in the wrong time zone. We either focus our thoughts on the past – and keep alive events that should by now merely be memories – or project ourselves in the future, as if the next event is secretly hiding the key of happiness we have longed for and not yet found.
We do this starting from very early on; as young tots we want to be big children, as children we long to be teenagers, as teenagers we wish to be adults. Once we make it to adulthood, we wish we could blink through the hard building years, so we can reach the point of being able to retire and enjoy the fruits of our labor, see our children grown, become grandparents.
We get so excited to discover what it will be like to live in the next stage, that we miss the wonderful opportunity of enjoying the stage we are in.
By making the future our present, our present becomes our past. The days we dismiss as uneventful - in favor of others which promise more excitement but might never even come - are days we will not get back.
It is time we slow down, and realize that life is a journey which should be taken slowly, step by step, not a speed race aimed at reaching the finish line.