Tag: life

A birthday poem for me

Middletown, CT

“Life has its own hidden forces which you can only discover by living.”

~Soren Kierkegaard

When you are a little kid and get to decide what you want your lucky number to be. Number four (4). A bright and shiny number. Has a small glow of positivity and joy radiating from it. A solid and confident, yet soft “f” sound at the beginning and a rolling, yet satisfying “r” sound at the end. And well, it is my mother’s lucky number too, so it must be a good choice. Yes, this will be my lucky number. The pride I feel when sharing with the world that 4 is MY number. I’m not totally sure what it means to have a lucky number, but I do take satisfaction in knowing that it’s mine and binds me like an invisible string to my mom. There is a sense of safety and warmth just in the declaration.

Fast forward umpteenth years and I’m now turning 44. A world behind me and a world yet ahead of me. I’m somewhere in the middle I suppose. And I can’t help but feel a small, yet satisfying feeling knowing that I’m stepping into a portal cloaked in good luck and small surprises this year.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I can feel the exhale in my chest. I survived a challenging year, professionally, personally and mental health wise. I stepped onto a roller coaster last year that I never signed up for and rode it anyways. In fits and starts, I protested for someone to stop the ride. To let me off, so I could fall asleep on the bench, parked alongside the moving colors and sounds of the carnival, and sleep while the world whisked by. But that did not happen. The roller coaster never did stop. It kept moving, amidst old bands’ music, the crashing sounds of children’s voices and the smell of cotton candy.

The carnival did come to a close eventually. The rides did slow down and I have been able to step off and catch my breath. I still find my chest and belly saturated with pressure at times, but the pace has quieted and I’m less afraid to open my eyes while going downhill or taking those unexpected turns.

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A birthday wish or two for myself in this new year. To embrace the joys already in front of me. To let go of the genetic wiring of my “if only” mindset that has followed me around for so many years. “If only” I follow the right nutrition labels will I fall back in love with my body. “If only” I sign my daughter up for the “right” activity will she be on track to live her life more authentically. “If only” I take a class in x, y, or z, will I feel more fulfilled spiritually or intellectually, etc., etc., etc.

In this 45th year on earth, may I take more steps backwards to open my eyes to the bigger picture that is my life, and gain perspective. To be able to take in the full lot of what I’ve been given, and explore how I can be of service to others. For without this perspective, I’m at risk of being whisked away on another roller coaster. And goodness knows, at 44, my body will protest!

Life Keeps Moving

Cromwell Landing, Cromwell, CT

I’ve been struck recently with how fast time seems to move. My last blog entry was in June 2024 and somehow now we are in fall. The leaves have turned and we are getting ready for Halloween. I wish I could say I feel wiser and more grounded and settled since I last wrote, but I don’t think that would be true. I’m just as confused and overwhelmed with life as ever. (And not to mention, I’ve discovered a few more grey hairs).

One area I’m continuing to reconcile, in which I am perhaps making some progress, is catching a hold of and accepting the contradictions of life, the “both/and” mindset if you will. Just a few examples that come to mind in this particular moment…

Life is scary AND beautiful at the same time. I sit, for example, before this breathtaking fall landscape in Cromwell, CT AND brace for a world that feels more polarized and full of spite than ever before, particularly in the run up to our elections.

Raising my daughter is getting harder and easier at the same time. She is becoming more and more independent AND has the energy of a jaguar on steroids, which seems to rope us in constantly. She resists us whenever possible to proclaim her burgeoning truths. I can remember myself at this age (4 going on 14) and I don’t want to squash her light. (Mine is still coming back on!)

I’m exhausted at the end of most days AND have the yearning to run a marathon, swim a mile or climb Mount Kilimanjaro. It’s a constant push and pull of contradicting and perhaps complementary desires.

Our family recently returned from an epic adventure overseas, celebrating my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary. It was the first time I traveled this far in well over a decade and I was reminded of my 20 something self who only saw adventure and travel in her future. I admittedly feel most myself when traveling. The further I go, the more connected I feel to myself and the universe. To break free from the monotony of daily routines, packing lunches, cleaning, being online from 9am to what feels like bedtime, etc. Travel is the epitome of perspective building for me.

While on our trip, we start in a small seaside European town and I receive a lesson along these lines that I’m still digesting. On our first evening in France, straight off the airplane, my mom and I go into town to try and purchase a new stroller after we leave ours mistakenly somewhere between the gate and baggage claim (the first of several things lost on this trip). The highlight, for me, during the excursion is dappling in my broken, very rusty, once fluent French. Once we successfully secure a new stroller, we find ourselves unsuccessfully trying to wave down a taxi. So we get on a public bus back to the hotel, jet lagged and overstimulated.

However the next day, just as we are about to board the ship, I realize my wallet is missing. We search everywhere. I assume I have been pickpocketed and proceed to ride the waves of resentment off and on throughout the trip. To my utter surprise and amazement, while scanning my emails on the plane back home I find out that the wallet has been discovered! It was a good Samaritan from the local French bus company on that very first night who found the wallet, sorted through it, found a business card and emailed me to come retrieve it! While I unfortunately can’t get back there in person (yet), I’m hedging my bets that it gets returned safely to me in the US. What are the chances! And how can I reframe when I next start to feel that victim mentality/resentment start to build up about what feels hard?

The world is so big AND yet so small at the same time. We are but small microbes and photons floating in the universe and yet, when we choose to, more often than not, we find some commonality with the strangers we encounter.

My challenge upon returning home (and perhaps for all of us), is to live into each moment with even 1% more of the energy I have when traveling. To see people and places around me, with all their hues and personalities. To not give up on my potential to keep growing and stretching when life feels hard, and to keep looking for where the water meets the shore…to see the waves, as we did on our “boat trip” (as my daughter calls it) and to know that we are all part of a vast ocean of life. We must keep moving, because we have no choice AND because we have the privilege and ability to do so. Blessings for the journey. Shabbat Shalom. And may I be with you all again soon.

Southern France, after transatlantic flight