It’s clear to me now that I don’t really have that much control over anything; and even though I have kind of sensed it for a while, instructed it for even longer and offered up longish riffs to my kids about the futility of tightly managing anything, it still manifests as somewhat of a shocker out on the road. I don’t really have any bearings. In fact, if it weren’t for Siri and my iphone I would be perpetually lost. People are so nice here, utter amazement!
All of it discombobulates, shakes me up, throws off my energies, tempts me into negative thinking; invites tools out of my toolbox towards which I have long denied a need to re-connect. Honestly, it’s probably the freshest, most-free, in the flow of the moment I’ve felt in, I don’t know, maybe ever. And I find myself hoping against hope that it will never,ever, ever end.
It’s a weird kind of hope that rests upon itself and suddenly seems strongly founded in the well-intentioned inclinations of my heart to follow my inner compass and lean into the dream. So when my youngest son Gareth answered my phone call the other night with the kind of white hot anger that used to spiral me into some kind of self-doubt, I swallowed hard and told him I was sorry he felt that way, and I would speak to him later in the week. And just before he hung up, I told him I loved him, because I did, do, will for ever. So much freedom in the sane, simple, sincere response.
I’ve been fortunate enough to give birth to four healthy children in three pregnancies. I remember the process as being fairly straight forward, uncomplicated, full of sweat and pain and tears in the moment. And yet it still pales in comparison to this messy, unfathomable fabulousness that is the rebirth of my 51 year old self. “You’re 23 going on 52,” my mother likes to say, trying to erase the sometimes sadder more serious decades of my former life. I don’t think so: I am 51 going on 52, and I own all of it, sliding into the Fall of 2014, I feel like I hit a triple when all that was required was a walk to first base.
And arriving at home will require the kind of connection and belonging that manifests only through opening myself vulnerably up to others over and over and over again. I created a list of references today as I began to step into, with the help of wonderfully supportive friends, the next chapter of my life. I see myself by the ocean I say, and doors start to open up. “What is required of me next?”, I ask. “How best can I serve?” And two of my closest friends and colleagues text back words of loving encouragement and support for the work direction that lies ahead. “Yes”, they say. And, “Of course I’ll help you Susan. I love you.”
So it’s the love that loops around on itself; co-inhering, effortlessly, and bearing witness to the new, sparkly version of me; in loving community, I am never really lost. So easy, so simple, so free!