Why have I not felt like blogging, this past week? I’ve had a moment, here or there, that could have been turned into time to blog. But I chose not to.
Because …
1. My head is full. Too full. Which makes it hard to zero in on a subject. I’ll be honest with you. My head is full of Life, good and bad, dark and light, hope and despair, grief and excitement. Sometimes I just want to sit and let myself feel what I’m feeling, quietly. Without trying to put it into words.
2. This hasn’t been conscious, but I’m finding some balance in my days and hours. In a sense, I’m making compartments for different tasks, different identities. This morning is quiet and interior: I am writing. The house is empty. My mind homes in on this other world I’m making. There’s some of the source of excitement: making something, gathering up the disparate pieces and sensing that it’s coming together, even if it’s not quite there yet. (I abandoned the memoir awhile ago–did I ever write about that? I am working on the story collection, the Juliet stories.)
After school, I’ll enter into the noisy chaotic compartment of motherhood. I’m trying harder to check email less frequently, sit down with a kid in my lap more frequently; that also means not squeezing in a blog post while a child stands at my knee and screams for attention.
Whatever it is, it seems to be working. The full-on mothering days feel sweeter because I have these other days and opportunities to express other parts of myself. I am luxuriating in the freedom I have within every day. I just have to accept its seasoning and flavour. Say, freedom to go out for lunch with a friend. Freedom to bake sweet treats for/with my kids. Freedom to walk rather than drive. Freedom to volunteer at the school fun fair.
It is amazing to discover that commitment to an activity offers up space for real relaxation and enjoyment.
Example … I volunteered at the school fun fair. Yes, I left clothes hanging on the line and it poured rain and I couldn’t run home to rescue them; guess what–they stayed on the line overnight and dried the next day, having enjoyed a lovely soft water rinse. Yes, I had to bring along all four kids; guess what–they had a blast helping out. Yes, Kevin was stuck in Toronto; guess what–AppleApple missed her soccer practice and the world did not end; plus, everybody rose to the occasion, and the big kids were able to do activities with the little kids. Yes, I applied fake tattoos for several hours; guess what–it was a blast chatting with the kids who streamed through, and their parents. I didn’t waste a minute worrying that the evening wasn’t going precisely as planned, or that we were staying longer than anticipated, or that the kids were going to be grumpy the next day.
I am a naturally impatient person, and I’m just beginning to grasp that conceptualizing any time as a waste is itself the biggest waste of all. I don’t have a lot of spare time, so it can be easy to resent time spent doing something that isn’t my first or second or even third choice; I am finding myself more relaxed about that. Inside every moment is a potential discovery.
What comes at me so strongly this week, as I sit inside quiet and some sadness, is that this is my life. I am alive. I am breathing, in and out, and I am living this present moment whether or not it is the moment I want to be living. Can I embrace each moment? Probably not. But the more moments I embrace–chosen and otherwise, going according to plan or going hay-wire–the more moments will embrace me.
You know it when you find it. You likely won’t recognize it till afterward. But you’ll know–an hour, an afternoon, longer, those moments when you are out of time and inside the experience, just being within it. Often, you have a sense of not wanting this–whatever this is–to pass. Or even no sense at all of time passing. You blink, and hours are gone. You wonder where you’ve been. You’ve been inhabiting yourself, that’s all. For me, these moments seem to come more easily when connected to something physical, walking, running, kneading, drinking, laughing, sometimes with company, sometimes alone.
:::
Guess I was ready to blog …
This is what happens when I get up early and exercise. I didn’t even set my internal alarm this morning, it just decided to go off.
This is wonderful, and something I’ve needed to read. Thank you.
So glad to hear it. Thanks, Kerry.
ps Happy anniversary!!
Yes, a wonderful post — one that leaves me thinking you still have a memoir in you, even if it’s currently on the backburner.
At the risk of sounding like an advertisement, I’ve found that internet-blocking / social media-blocking software works great for cutting down on email checking, especially on days when I’m finding it hard to settle into that quiet, interior space of work (or even just into the moment).
Speaking of which, my own internal alarm is going off. Time to get back to work!
Maia
Carrie, I loved this post. I feel this way a lot. I just wish I could hold onto these realizations longer so that I didn’t have to make them so often!
Maia,What social media-blocking software do you use? I’d love to get me some!
Thanks, Maia and Marita.
re memoir … well, one never knows. I’ll never say never.
re realizations not lasting very long … I had to laugh when I read your comment, because by supper tonight I was definitely not embracing the moment. I need a decompression chamber post-writing-day; instead, I had an extra supper guest, two bathroom visits (CJ) requiring help during supper, and a spilled drink when I FINALLY returned to the table to take my second bite … I was guh-rumpy.
And I do tend to make the same (or similar) AHA! discoveries over and over again.
Marita – I use two little programs, both by the same guy (his name escapes me at the moment, but google the software names together and you’ll find the download site). One, called Freedom (funnily enough, given the content of this post!), blocks the internet entirely until you restart the computer. The other, Anti-Social, blocks social media sites and, if you want it to, email (it’s good for those times where you need the internet for research, but you don’t want to be distracted by other things online).
Carrie – Ha! – If you source a good decompression chamber, let me know. I need one too, even without four children…
It’s so hard to turn off …
I am letting myself not turn it off today (and my husband is helping out). Sweet relief! I just need to feel like I’ve finished the thought, or the arc, if you know what I mean. It won’t shut itself off till I get it all down in one piece.