Monday, September 10, 2012

Out of The Nest

I’m back.

I did write while I was away but was so overwhelmed with travel, moving house, and children’s birthday parties that nothing made it to my blog. I don’t want you to feel like we’re strangers now and I offer the peace pipe below as a small slice of my past couple of months. Please know that you were missed:

16 August 2012

My experience so far is that moving house is hard when you’re caring for a very small child. In fact this is my experience at this very moment, or up until five minutes ago when I put my small child to bed. Now I’m eating chocolate and trying to untangle my feelings through writing. The other option was drink an entire bottle of wine. I feel I’ve made the mature choice. If I’m to be truly authentic here, I should tell you that if I’m able to complete this post I’ll have the bottle of wine anyway.

My phone just ding-a-linged. A text from my husband who’s working late tonight. Not only is my phone in the bedroom with the small sleeping child, the text from my husband contains a request to do yet another thing before the end of the day.

Just uncorked the wine.

I need to take a photo of Lennon for his daily blog. I knew I needed to do this even before my husband texted, but today has been so joyless, I decided to not engage in the hopeful act of photography, out of sheer protest. Several camera perfect moments floated in front of me today and while I did feel a little guilty for not capturing them, I reminded myself that we’re in wartime: allen wrench calluses on my hands and piles of card board--I simply can’t be bothered. But now, my husband has taken time out of his twelve-hour workday to remind me to take a photo. It’s time for me to enter the calm eye of the storm, get a hold of my damn self, and snap a bloody picture already. I stumble over a poorly placed box full of heavy books to get to the camera and snap a sloppy photo of my sleeping child.

Back to the wine. Pouring myself another glass, in fact. These two glasses will probably mean that I’ll not sleep well enough tonight. They’ll likely ensure that I’ll have an annoyingly foggy headed day tomorrow, frustrated with my sleepiness, the mountain of boxes, and all that God forsaken fiberboard furniture I have to put together.


But listen to this:

“The essence of life is that it’s challenging. Sometimes it is sweet, and sometimes it is bitter. Sometimes your body tenses, and sometimes it relaxes or opens. Sometimes you have a headache, and sometimes you feel 100 percent healthy. From an awakened perspective, trying to tie up all the loose ends and finally get it together is death, because it involves rejecting a lot of your basic experience. There is something aggressive about that approach to life, trying to flatten out all the rough spots and imperfections into a nice smooth ride. To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.” –Pema Chodron


So much of the pain I’ve felt this week has come about because of rough spots and imperfections, annihilation of routines, disruption of peace. I almost started crying in IKEA Tuesday over counter tops. I’d like to be someone who views change and challenge with a spirit of adventure. In those moments, I want to think: “what can I learn here?” Currently, fuzzy brained panic is prevailing. There’s also the concern of being too fastidious in my pursuit of laidback-ness, where ‘allowing for messy’ becomes yet another thing with a deadline.

Just finished the chocolate. Sipping the wine.

I can feel myself tense as I hear the noises from the street. Our old apartment was in a Hof and though we had little sunlight, we had near to no noise. Here, I’m very aware that I live in an urban environment. Just had to put Lennon back to sleep. When I come back to my wine, a fly is perched on the edge of my glass.

Chaos. Mess. Drunken, messy chaos: I will try to enjoy you.

No. No try.

I will enjoy {whispered as she jumps from nest}  

Photo source found here.
Information on Pema Chodron found here.

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