Lately I've been thinking a lot about how I'd like my life to look. For a long time, actually, I've been considering all the ways I'd like to help people, change the world, do something worthwhile, give back. I've also been considering all the ways I'd like to 'improve' my life by going back to school or getting a better job or being healthier or more fit and so on. After all this thinking and consideration, I had quite a list of things to do before I died ranging from getting cavities filled to helping women birth children in Africa and advocating for victims of sex trafficking in the United States and India. It's an impressive list. It's also an intimidating list.
Something felt so frantic about the whole thing. Like, how will I ever get it all done and what am I doing now that brings me closer to these huge goals? I felt defeated before I had even really begun. I felt like every day I lived up until now only showcased my lack of concern for others and that I had a lot to make up for. There was shame in every direction I turned. I wasn't moving fast enough. I wasn't working hard enough. I should have been somewhere else by now altogether. I started to think about how I might be more effective if I had less friends, or if I gave up doing other things I enjoy.
I was feeling a sense of overwhelm and frustration and then the calm voice of, I don't know, not reason, but let's say my heart, spoke to me. It asked: 'If in the end it is only you that you'll have to answer to, what would you regret having not done, really?' And the answer was very simple: I would regret not enjoying my life. If in the end, I had accomplished every thing on that list, but did it alone and without joy and frantically, I would regret that. If in the end, I hadn't felt the warmth of family and friends and love as often as possible, I would regret that. Quite honestly, when I really thought about it, when I really let myself envision the life I wanted on those terms, my heart's terms, it was so extremely simple. I want a house with lace curtains and a garden and windows that allow sunlight to make pools on the floor to stretch and lay in. I want to make tea and bake things and cook healthy meals and have friends and family close by to share those things with. I want to experience a marriage and love that is mutual and healthy and fulfilling -- nourishing. I want to feel at peace. I want to create art and write and listen to and play music. I want to know that I am safe to give and receive love.
If I think about living in another country and taking cold showers and being away from the people I know and love, my heart aches. I would love to help the world. I would. It comes from a true and good place in me. But, in this moment, I'm not even fully loving the people who are currently in my life. I'm not calling my pregnant friends to ask how they're feeling. I'm not sending my mom a card to tell her she's beautiful. I'm not sending my niece and nephews packages to let them know that I am thinking of them. I'm not fully loving the people who are loving me.
I want to start there. I want to start so extremely small. I want to make sure that I am giving the people in my life who show up for me again and again, something back. And if the only thing I ever do is live with love in my heart while I wait tables, or bake cookies, or talk to my friends and family, then that is absolutely enough. I will have done my very best and I will not regret a thing.
So, I'm starting smaller. I'm starting with loving myself. I'm starting with doing something for someone else. I'm starting with considering someone else's feelings before I speak or act. I'm starting small. And I do hope for the house with the curtains and the sunlight and even still hope for the chance to offer myself to a cause that is important to me, but until then, I'm grateful for what I have right now, which is a lot. And I'm grateful to recognize that just to learn how to love what's in front of me is probably the biggest thing I'll ever cross off that list.
No comments:
Post a Comment