I'm sitting in the airport during a three hour layover on my way to Washington state. I'm already missing my family, but also starting to feel myself unwind in the way that being removed from your everyday routine can encourage.
Since winter break ended, life has presented Aleks and I with some unexpected challenges. Nothing that is alarming or life shattering, but rather the kind of challenges that sit silently in the corner, biding their time to potentially impact our lives. Or not. Or change things completely. The irony of Lent and this season of life coinciding is not lost on me.
Fourteen and a half years of marriage is a huge advantage, however. Are we still as spontaneous and romantic as we once were? No. But being helpmates to each other in times of stress? Yeah, we know how to travel this road together.
On top of the weird emotional state hovering over our household for the last three months, I have a cd that is being released in April (if you haven't heard). Having never done this before, I didn't realize that this project would not end with last take of the recording session. It has been a wonderful, exciting process and full of decisions and revisions. Most recently, the production company with whom I'm working, has encouraged me to be proactive in the weeks leading up to the release by being more present and vocal on social media. Also, part of the push before the release involves me giving a series of concerts, which have been in the works for months. Former professors, colleagues, and current friends are hosting me at various venues, generously supporting me and album in this way.
I just bring this up, because I'm sure on social media, things may look pretty exciting. And they are. But here's a more realistic picture.
I gave a concert last Friday at a venue about an hour outside of Wichita. When people ask me how it went, I truthfully tell them it went well. I sang to the best of my ability and my pianist/friend and I made some really beautiful, interesting music. What I don't tell most of them is that there were 12 people in the audience, 3 of whom were my family. It was really discouraging. And even though it wasn't my fault, caused me to feel like a failure.
The next day I was decidedly "blue," but thankfully it was one of those rare Wichita days in which the temperature was perfect AND there was no wind so the girls and I rode our bikes to the park. Sun and movement always lift my spirits.
And there's so much to learn from my kids.
Ruby is incredibly adept at acknowledging the good things in her life. When I rub her back or massage her head, she'll often look up at me and say "that feels good." Or if we're playing a game or building a fort, she'll pause to let me know she's having fun. I want to do more of this in my own life.
Maia lives so utterly in the moment she'll forget what she's saying mid-sentence because she's been distracted by the last piece of popcorn which she has accidentally dropped onto the floor and our dog scrambles to devour. Her room is a gallery of unfinished creative projects (rainbow loom necklaces) amidst piles of books (which she is reading all at once, small ripped pieces of paper serving as bookmarks) adorned with one or more planned outfits for picture day (having been laid out weeks in advance). Her life is so fun and interesting.
I want to live more in the moment. Certainly, there are seasons of life that require thinking ahead and planning. I am currently experiencing an intense period of living in the future. The inside of my brain is like an olympic table tennis match; the balls moving back and forth between tasks and lists almost faster than the human eye can see.
I've been thinking recently about contentment (and happiness? same thing?) and that it might lie in the present. Understanding my place and role in the universe and not looking ahead for more or behind at what has happened helps provide satisfaction with my life.
Since the beginning of February I've been participating in the phenomena that is the Crossfit Open. Basically it's 5 workouts that are announced once a week for 5 weeks and people all over the world do the same workout and post their scores with hopes to advance to the regional games.
(I'm just doing the workouts as part of a internal gym competition, I'm not actually competing in the Open proper.) I did the fourth workout (18.4) on Saturday and currently, the entire area from my lower back to the backs of my knees throbs anytime I lean over. And while its terribly painful and inconvenient, strangely, it makes me happy. Not because I like the pain, but rather what that pain represents. It reminds me that I did a really hard thing and it didn't defeat me.
Which makes me think, could this be a larger metaphor for life? Stress, anxiety, low-self worth. What can those things tell me? Maybe that I'm doing something about which I care very deeply? That this period of uncertainty is helping me find contentment?
As I always tell my students, we often don't learn and grow as fully when things come easily.
Are you still reading? I should send you a signed CD. :)
My flight's boarding in a bit.
Peace to you, my friends.
