As I returned this week and picked up where I’d left off at home, I realized that the dichotomous nature of my life on the road is mirrored elsewhere. I feel caught between two selves – the capable and more present one needed by my aging parents, and the increasingly separate and less capable one in my kids’ worlds, especially their digital ones.
If thousands of these wondrous flowers could be their perfect selves, there was hope for a broken twelve-year-old girl.
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.
And so, I have made a new best friend—the voice of the woman on my google maps app. I may spend more time listening to her than anyone else in my life. She allows me to relax and engage in some contemplative reflections while I’ m driving because I no longer have to worry about navigating my way around.
Letting there be room for not knowing is the . . .
We are creatures of routine, immersing ourselves into our personal merry-go-round. Each day is much like the one that passed before. What will we remember? Will it be the moments that we discounted as too ordinary as we were living them?
“It is, in the end, the saving of lives that we writers are about.”
Truly listening means setting our agendas aside and hearing someone out – responding, not overreacting; observing not judging; offering advice if asked; avoiding lectures. Perhaps in my busy and distracted life, I’ve started to equate a witty, ‘profound’ response with good listening. I hope that patiently waiting for someone to finish so I can talk passes for hearing her.
“Therefore the main thing in religion is to keep the conscience pure….”