a shift

I want to tell you about the light right now and how it’s pouring in through the dusty windows and bouncing off the walls, leaving a golden glow on everything it touches. And how I think that’s what love looks like.

I want to tell you about courage and my great-great-grand-mother, who, after bearing and raising 11 children, this woman who couldn’t read or write and had probably never been  more than a few miles from home, set out from Ireland and traveled to America and found work to bring each of her children and husband over, one by one.

I want to tell you about how that same blood courses through my veins and when I feel like it’s all too overwhelming, I remember that I come from this. I have this courage. It’s in my genetic make-up and I will pass it down to my own daughter someday.

I want to tell you about letting go and how, when I’m trying to control everything around me, I am, in fact, resisting life. I want to tell you about spontaneity and making room for surprise.

I want to tell you about last night when he said “Hey, remember when we used to Skype and wished we could come home to each other and talk about our day and fall asleep together? Look. We are doing it now. 3 years later… we are doing it!” I want to tell you about gratitude and having it good.

I want to tell you about the art of paying attention every minute.

I want to tell you about our walk in the Pennines this past weekend and how the wind was so strong that it nearly blew me off the cliff and how we leaned into it and how it held us up and how it made us feel alive. I want to tell you about stepping out of the madness and slowing down and separating the signal from the noise.

I want to tell you how important it is to carry a spare battery for your camera when you go away for the weekend.

I want to tell you about shifting and how I feel like perhaps it’s time to pursue those things that make me feel alive. I want to tell you how long I’ve procrastinated, how many excuses I’ve come up with over the years to stay on the career path of least resistance (there is always a good enough excuse to not do that which scares you). I want to tell you how tired I am of procrastinating.

I want to tell you that I started my day listening to this commencement address by Steve Jobs and how his words rang so true, they brought me to tears. “Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”

I want to tell you that I’m starting to learn a thing or two about trust and faith.

I want to tell you how I’m adapting to married life and this dance we’re dancing. I want to tell you that even when it’s hard and we’re stepping on each other’s toes, I remember that I made vows and vows are not to be taking lightly and there is so much strength and beauty in choosing to make it work every day.

I want to tell you about the high I get after spending a few hours in the company of someone who leaves me feeling like I’ve been touched by divine light. That inspires me and makes me believe that anything is possible.

I want to tell you about possibility. About how if ever there was a time to reinvent myself, it’s now. As Mrs. Stewart. I have carte blanche on my life. It’s like a new year on crack.

I want to tell you that I have no idea what I’m going to do with this clean slate but I’m hoping it’s something that fulfils me and gives me a purpose.

I want to tell you that I say these words today and may need to be reminded of them tomorrow. Such is life. Sometimes, you are the beacon. Other times, you get lost in the darkness and need someone else to shine some light on you.

I want to remind you how short life is and ask you what it is you want to do with your one and precious life?

Ultimately, it comes down to the question of just how willing we are to lighten up and loosen our grip.
~Pema Chödrön