March 30, 2003

Life: the Good Parts version

On Friday, I was driving home from work, and suddenly got a feeling I've had a few
times before. It's one of my favorite ways to feel, but one of the hardest to
describe. The best I can say it is that I felt centered, anchored in the myth of
my own life -- a feeling that the days of miracle and wonder are not yet over and
moreover, that I'm in the middle of them right now. I have a certain
sureness that I will look back on these as some of the best times of my life,
because they are among the times when I am most fully myself.

I
often find it easier to use the words of some of my favorite authors. If there's
anyone else out there who was helped through adolescence by Norma Johnston, you
will understand perfectly when I say that these are my Keeping
Days.

It caught me by surprise, a bit, since I've been so busy
treading water while balancing plates like a circus act (Cirque du Soleil, that
would be, to combine the two) that I'd hardly had time to notice how much fun I
was having. Honestly, I think I like my life and myself better when both are
stretched to their fullest extent, even if it does mean things are a little crazy
and I can't do everything I'd like to do as well as I'd like to do it. I never was
good at perfection anyway.

In fact, maybe that's the phrase that
should be my epitaph.

I've had that same feeling other times: when I
was nine through eleven, had some great teachers and hung out with a close circle
of male and female friends (probably the best social life I've ever had); a couple
of rare moments in high school; my first and last years in college and the summer
after the first one; the year I met Rudder and began rowing (there is nothing
better than sharing a beer with friends and your new True Love, right on the water
-- I miss the Clear Lake bars on the water); the year we were planning a wedding
and buying a house and I was working on an exciting new project with an incredible
group of people. And now.

There are things that could be better, of
course; for one thing, it would be very nice to have more local friends. One
problem of living in a mobile community is that every time we get close to people
they move away. On the other hand, there's a line by Richard Bach whose power is
evident in the fact that I can quote it despite not having read the book it's in
for at least a decade: "There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you
in its mouth. We seek out our problems for the gifts they bring." And some of my
problems, such as the craziness (excitement and challenge) at work and the long
commute (time to meditate and look at some beautiful desert and sky) are simply a
matter of perspective and appreciation. Then there are the parts I appreciate
without question: a job I can do well, a comfortable and peaceful home, a trip
soon to one of the place I've always wanted to see, and always, always Rudder. And
so here I am, right here. Living one of the best parts of my life. And it's pure
luxury to know that while it's happening.

Posted by dichroic at March 30, 2003 09:19 AM
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