We are in the middle of summer, swinging between activities and leisure time, while trying to navigate the dawn of tween behavior and momentum on a writing project. The pace of summer is usually one I enjoy, but the cadence this year offers its own set of challenges. Part of the consternation involves a reluctance to dive into one state completely. If I am watching a movie with my family, I often have my laptop at my side, contemplating story ideas or checking on freelance opportunities. I am not always faithful to the present. The lines between mother, writer, self and family blur into one another and I throw my hands up, wondering whether I am bringing my best to any one role. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I’ve written enough or mothered enough or managed my home enough. But rounding the corner of accepting this maxim pulses with liberation.
This consistent questioning lends to restlessness, but also a push toward becoming a better person, writer, wife and mother. The thought of apathy is frightening to me – it’s a surrender to circumstances and a failure to work for something more. Instead, the idea of not being enough reveals a more complicated terrain – the willingness to examine your personal behavior and where you should make improvements or try harder. It’s a self-created chaos, but I believe it’s necessary. This particular perspective conjures Socrates famous line, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” I realize as a writer, it is a part of my makeup to continue to examine, to reflect, to arrive at some kind of conclusion and then start at the beginning again. This whittling away is necessary and sometimes it isn’t until later that you realize what will take shape.
Through the last few years, I’ve begged myself to trust the chaos. As much as it might offer discontent, I wholly realize this is part of the process. The calm will reveal itself if I choose to pay attention. I needed this reminder yesterday. The goal was to ride bikes with my daughter, but because of a flat tire or my ineptitude in trying to fill a flat properly, we aborted our cycling to another day. Instead, we chose to walk around the neighborhood as a way to enjoy the outdoors.
My daughter and I passed by houses, smelling the familiar scent of laundry detergent, barbecue smoke and lavender as we walked toward the end of the street. The air filled with a quiet, except for the buzzing of bugs, the occasional car dawdling on the street and kids on their electric razors. As we edged farther away from home, we both looked up and saw the sky, the azure blue connecting the trees, the moon overhead, the golden-saffron horizon announcing its presence on the horizon. I couldn’t resist the beauty and captured the glow of this moment. Yes, I thought to myself. This is the space between the chaos and the calm.
I felt engaged in the moment. Only milliseconds, but yet it was there. The stillness. It’s elusive as we immerse ourselves in our day-to-day. But this space reminds me of the universal, a refuge where I seek to be patient and in the background, I hear my daughter gaining the same appreciation when she says, “It’s beautiful, Momma. Look at it.” This setting, my recognition of the vastness and my daughter’s appreciation of the same, reminded me of the following words by Thich Nhat Hanh, “Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we are okay. Right now, today, we are still alive, and our bodies are working marvelously. Our eyes can still see the beautiful sky. Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones.”
Glad to know I’m really not the only one examining and overanalyzing. And yes, Now is good. 🙂
Yes to now. Sometimes I feel uncomfortable writing these posts, but I love when I hear from readers who share the same sentiment. It makes us all feel less alone.
That was a good quote for me right now. Thanks, Rudri.
Glad you liked the quote, Luanne. Thanks.
All we can do is try and stay in the moment. Also, we need to be kind to ourselves. Your heart will be your compass.
I wholeheartedly agree with this advice. Using our internal instincts to navigate our decisions is an important piece to help us through the more difficult moments.
I read this just now and have goosebumps – we are certainly on the same wavelength (I published something similar today!) xoxox
Aww, Lindsey. Yes to feeling less alone. xo
I think when we contemplate our lives it helps us be the best we can be, and no one could ask for anything more.
Love the quote.
Contemplation does help in trying to understand life, but sometimes this reflection also leads to unexpected feelings of discomfort. Wading through this uncomfortable space you hope to arrive on the other side.
YES. “The lines between mother, writer, self and family blur into one another and I throw my hands up, wondering whether I am bringing my best to any one role.” And summer is total chaos for me. I try to surrender to it and know there will be more time (at least for the writer self) when schoo is back.
The summer makes it hard to find that space – my daughter is off for a full 3 months. I think you have the right idea in surrendering to circumstances.
Ah, gorgeous. I feel like I’m in between chaos and calm nearly every day of summer. Summer is so weird for me, as you know! All the births and the deaths and echoes of the past. And there are new things to celebrate and grieve every day.
I’m with you every step you take on that street. It paints a picture I can see.
Thanks, Tamara. Summer promises easy, but often offers a complicated range of emotions. I think you describe it aptly – trying to negotiate the space between grieving and celebrating.
I’m glad I’m not the only one struggling with the feeling of not being, doing enough. And constantly juggling selves. It is the examined life, but it can be quite torturous at times!
Yes. It can prove arduous at times. But I think going through it is a part of the process.
Great post! xox
Thank you!