Reflections & Ramblings: Volume Thirty-Nine
I.
Each revolution around the sun becomes more eerie to me than the last. Experiencing life in the overlapping realities of my past, my present, and the anticipation (and often dread) of my future. I’m generally disappointed in myself more than I am proud, and I think that’s part of what makes the beginning third of the year so hard for me. I lose motivation, I get frustrated easily, I gain weight, and don’t live into the simple goals I set up for myself — things like making my bed, or putting away the laundry, keeping my living room tidy. The smallest of things lead to some of the biggest feelings for me.
I think I live a lot of my life scared or on edge. I can’t drive down I-480 without a shiver running down my spine. I look to ritual — like making a good pour over coffee, eating red curry for lunch with Sarah, taking a long, hot shower, editing photos — to help me feel more grounded, like I’m here to stay. I claim this as my life. I appreciate it. Am grateful for it. Finding any kind of control that leads me to appreciate the small details in life is what I find comforting.
II.
A couple days ago I saw a photo memory pop up on Instagram from my time in grad school. It’s a black and white photo of my MacBook, with an iPad on one side, my books and watch on the other. It’s my little workstation at our library on campus, where I would study for my classes. Long hours of studying, memorizing, attempting to know the right answers to the questions I might be asked. Such an intense part of my life.
I thought about how hard I worked. How I pushed myself so much during those years. My ambition was so high. My dedication to doing well, fueled by a fear of not matching the rigor of my peers, was a consuming focus of mine back then. But I remember the day that photo was taken I started to wonder what it was I was doing it all for.
And I think to my life now and wonder if I still have that drive. I think to myself, “What was all that for? Was it worth it? Do I still have that drive to work so hard?”
And then I think about my life now. I was cooking dinner last night, searing chicken in a cast iron skillet, using a recipe that I quadrupled for my home of 12-13 people. And I realized it felt like just any other day. We had gotten up in the mid-morning because we sleep in on Saturdays. We had breakfast, had a family meeting, tidied up the house, watched a movie. I worked on some reports in my office while they watched the movie, and then we got some lunch and had a picnic at a local park. We laughed and joked as a family together. Sarah and one of our girls went around looking at plants nearby while the rest of us played tag and goofed around on the swings. After the park, Sarah took them all to the library while I stayed home and made dinner.
Eleven years ago when I took that photo in the library there’s no way I could have predicted what my life is now. That cooking for thirteen people is just a typical day. That I’d spend my time with a house full of teenagers, goofing and joking around — my soul tugged and pulled in every direction by their immensely fickle hearts.
III.
I signed up for another half-marathon this year. October 6th in Portland. Last year, when my friend Jeff and I signed up for my first half-marathon in Moab, it lit a fire under me that propelled me all the way to October. I worked hard. I felt that spark of working hard that I hadn’t felt since graduate school. It stirred a lot of things up in me, and it made me feel proud, accomplished. I felt that sense of ambition arise in me again. Not for climbing the ladder at work or something, but for taking care of myself and pushing myself to do something I didn’t think I could do. But I did, and I felt so good about myself.
I’m not there right now. I signed up for that marathon and hoped that it would light a spark in me. But it hasn’t. At least not yet. And I’ve tried to jump-start it. I’ve gone on some runs, I’ve gone to a local run club. I’ve tried to get outside a bit. But each time I have, I’ve just been disappointed by my own performance that I wondered if I have it in me this year.
But I do. I know I do. I just need it to get warm and stay warm, I think. I hope. The weather has seemingly been colder than it has in the past and it’s really dragging on my soul.
IV.
I came across this poem this morning and it shook something up inside of me. I love how poems can do that.
Stepping Back 