There is no going back
After delivering Crit through and emergency C-section, after many many hours of labor, after an incredibly lengthy gestation, i walked the halls of the hospital knowing loud and clear that there was never any going back. that whoever i was now, and whatever shape or mis-shape my body held now, there was no chance of returning to what i was before.
i had the opportunity to choose and work to grow into something new, but i should not waste my time longing for what no longer was and what no longer could be.
I pull that back out frequently. and i share it with others who are "going through" things. shedding a small beam of awareness that the product of going-through is emerging differently on the other side. some things harden, other things soften. some things are shed, and other things are acquired. and all things are affected through the heat of change.
i remind myself that it is crucial for the growth i seek. that without life's dynamic forces i will not be able to ride the trajectory to its peak.
we are just shy of one month of full-time school under our belt. Squawk in kindergarten and Crit in the first grade. and me. alone. from 7:30-3:30 four days a week.
parts of me have been looking forward to this time for many many moons, and other parts of me were as reticent as the cartoon wolf resisting its fate in the boiling pot of stew. the latter image is how i spent the entire summer.
i dropped a veil over all my personal lists, projects, tasks, and creations. i poured all of myself into just being with my peeps. humans being. not humans doing. and what a summer we had!
i spent the summer being the parent i hoped i'd be all those years ago when i learned about Devlin and ended my career. i knew that elementary school was breathing down my neck and once it came, there would be no. going. back.
we filled out days with living our natural rhythms. Squawk continued to rise with the sun, and i continued to appreciate those special moments together. Crit came out rubbing her eyes in the 7's and we'd lounge about in the mornings. we ate berries for breakfast and planned our days from the Cowpoke Counter. we hiked, we biked, we tubed, we swam, we floated, we camped, we cooked, we slip-and-slided, we picked bouquets, we pressed wildflowers, we searched for wild strawberries, we watered the flowers and the vegetables, we climbed to the top of things, we visited our family, we spent time with our friends, we laughed, we learned, we got bug bites, we backpacked, we urban assaulted, we pulled off ticks, we rode horses, we rock hounded, we s'morsed, we drank mocktails, we yogaed on the deck in the sunshine, we watched shooting stars and the total eclipse of the sun, we explored new places, we revisited old places, we danced in the rain, and we bathed in the sun...we spent our summer living intentionally. and it was terrific.
i did not write, i did not paint. i did not make t-shirts. i did not even teach yoga for the month of July. i simply parented. and it was enough. it was enough because i knew that September would come at the end of it all and there would never be a time like that one again. only something new next year.
The past six years of my life have been simply extraordinary. Full time school absolutely changes the game. I'm taking this month to sit through the changes. to notice the differences and hold tight to the sameness. to offer both consistency and the the platform for growth. for both my family and for myself.
i know better than to long for the past. i want to live a life that when i do look back over my shoulder, that a lump swells in my throat. not the kind of lump that makes me choke and lose my breath. the kind of lump that i can melt away with gratitude for the fortune we had to live as we did. and to be able to look back to the future knowing that the best is always yet to come.
