wandering mind

This week I am away from home on a conference and as I sit in this clean hotel room where everything is in perfect order, I miss the chaos of my house. I miss the stuff every where, I miss my family, the shoes by the front door that no one takes the two seconds to put on the shelf, the dishes in the sink that wait for me to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher, the piles of clean laundry. I used to not care about clutter. I clearly remember when I had a clean clothes pile and a dirty clothes pile and how well that system worked. I didn't understand what my mom's problem was. She was always bothered by my clutter, Fast forward 20 years.I have become my mom. I am always yelling at someone to pick up their stuff. Or picking it up myself and mumbling about kids these days. But I miss my home. I want to be wrapped around in it like a comfortable sweater. My imperfect home is the perfect place for me.

I have been working with some like minded people on things like vision statement and goal settings. One of the exercises this week was to create your personal principles - things that you want to live by and don't want to compromise on. This is what I came up with.

We are a family of engineers. I am an engineer, and so is my dad. I married an engineer. His dad happened to be one as well. So imagine our surprise when our daughter decided to be a theater major. Especially since she is really good at math and science. How I made my peace with that is a topic for another discussion. So we were sitting in a family gathering and discussing how my daughter got almost 100% in calculus.  A relative who knew my father in law really well noted that it must come from my daughter’s grandfather. I almost wanted to raise my hand like a little kid and say, “but, but, I also almost always got 100% in Math…” but I didn’t want to take the conversation there. I have tremendous respect for my father in law. He might be one of the most brilliant person I know. Then my daughter chimes in “I think I get it from my mom” My heart filled with something warm and fuzzy

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice — though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voice behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do — determined to save the only life that you could save. Mary Oliver

When you have hurt someone, even if it was completely unintentional. Even when you didn't realize that you have done it. It does not alter the fact that it happened. Do not justify. Just apologize. And let the healing begin. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. As simple as that.   

Home alone this evening. Drinking a glass of wine. Burnt the rice that I was making. Maybe I don't need dinner. No one else to feed. I can hear the traffic on I-95 Someone just locked their car outside. Two short beeps. I hear Buddy's heavy breathing as he lays content near my feet after a walk and dinner. He needs so little to be happy. A preview of times to comes when all evenings will be like this. Silence is really loud. I better turn on the TV to drown out this deafening silence.

I took my time this year and didn't make the rushed January 1st resolutions. I have decided 2017 to be the year of slowing down. The year of saying no to things that I do on auto pilot. The year of not rushing to say yes to any exciting things that comes my way. The year of introspection. The year of reading less stuff on the internet and spending more time knitting, drawing, painting, sketching, gardening, writing, reading. The year of decluttering my environment and my mind. The year of deep breaths in, deep breaths out. The year of reconnecting with yoga. The year of meditation.