A Moment of Serenity
For most of my life, I have been wishing my life away - waiting for that moment to bask in the sun, to relax, to glory in a life well lived, crowned with achievement. I counted off days and moments until the time I could open up doors to adventures in foreign lands, alternating with peaceful days at sea. A time when cares would be behind me, and responsibilities few and far between.I am 57 now, and am beginning to suspect I may not find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow after all, despite years of practice through high-level work, gaining the right skills, being the mistress of deferred gratification. Life is a far cry from butterflies and fairy tales. If anything, it is the hardest it has ever been, and Jim and I have been through hard times. My job, as champion of the most unpopular cause in town (the allevation and prevention of homelessness), is often stress at its purest form. And while I adore every member of my family and find joy with each of them in turn,there are demands I was unprepared to meet at this point in my life, and those demands are fierce. Do I have fierce in me any more? It's an unresolved question.
What I do have, now, is the sense to live more in the present. Not to wish my life away, or try to transform it into something more acceptable, easier to live with. I have perfected the ability to step out of time when the need arises, to drink in the peace of a vase of roses on my kitchen counter. Each week I choose a different color, or variety of colors. I bring them home, cut the stems, toss them in a simple, elegant vase, and use them to restore myself each time I pass near. I find the roses with the loveliest aroma, ones that can imbue a room with delicate fragrance. I will be reading the federal register, and look up at the stunning, fragile beauty of each rose, and I am transformed, swept away in an infinite second of sheer joy.
At night, I sit outside on the porch, and watch the oak leaves do their nightly tango with the wind. Our oak tree must be one of the loveliest on the planet, and is the sole reason we bought the house. Certainly we weren't looking at the small, awkward ,one-butt kitchen (as a friend labeled it), or the floor plan, or the plumbing. But as it turned out, that oak is really all we needed from the house. It's an anchor of calm, even as it bows and bends to the tune of the tropical storm.
Running errands on a tight schedule, I can be stopped by the beauty of a young woman I haven't seen for months. She came to me, homeless, hopeless, fleeing from unspeakable abuse, leaving only with the clothes on her back, her purse, and her three kids. She drove until she ran out of money to pay for gas, and rolled to a stop pretty much on my doorstep. At that moment, she was a client, a need, a demand, a stress. But in the store, she was phenomenal. Her face glowed with health and hope. I admired her work uniform, of which she was very proud. She has a good job, and her kids are adjusting to their new town, and shedding some of their fear. We talked, but mostly I just appreciated the beauty of a life started over, one with courage, and intelligence, and determination.
Most moments of peace just quiety happen. Some run, tumbling in your arms, embracing you with every atom of their being, "MamaLen, MamaLen! I knew you would come! I've been waiting and waiting, because you were coming, and now you are here!" Time stops then, and not just for a moment - it stops for the weekend, the week, the summer, whatever moment I can make last - because in the end, your grandchildren are your windows to heaven.
Every day brings me stress, despair, demands, problems I cannot solve both personal and professional. My friends are not the only ones who wonder how I cope with it all. I often feel like I got more than I signed up for, and wonder if it isn't too late to run off to the circus.
But every day also brings me a soft pink rose petal caressing my face; a warm, unsolicited gift from a friend; a kind word from a former client; a brilliant sunset; a tree offering its branches to the sky; a small child who thinks I represent everything good and true in the world. And these are the moments I choose, the times when I stop my life, go out of myself, and truly cherish the gift of peace.
These are the moments that bring me to the best of myself, so easily lost in the hassle and grind of my life. These are the gifts of being 57, of finding immortality amidst the rush of each day - the bit of color, the song of a bird, the love of a child. The actual moments of touching or hearing these things may be fleeting, but they are the only real permanent things in the world
There is a phrase, "into each life, some rain must fall." We see the rain. The gift is seeing the first timid sunbeam as it breaks through.
Happy Spring.
posted by Lenore Wilson @ 12:24 AM
4 comments
