Utopia on my mind
A shy reader (who has yet to post a comment) told me that a few recent posts had a hint of Hallmark platitude coursing through them. It’s true, I suppose. I typically sit down at my computer in the evening, after the chaos of the day has subsided, all little monkeys in bed and a glass of wine in hand. R is waiting anxiously (though he tries to seem patient) while I write.
And when I reflect on the day, it is the perfect world in my head that I long for. My wishes and dreams come to the surface for two reasons.
First and foremost, I am insufferable romantic. It is comforting to me to believe that there is a beautiful kind of love buried in the most amazing of places or in the most unique kind of relationship. I live more fully knowing that I might look for it and sometimes find it.
And, having such reflection on my day is what gives me the strength to wake up and live another—perhaps more completely and mindfully than the one before.
Now, do not misunderstand! I am ineligible for any Mother Teresa or philanthropic award for outstanding mother by my own admission! If I were to sit and write in the middle of one of the more trying moments of my day, you’d likely see a different thought bubble above my head—perhaps filled with intelligible symbols and asterisks.
Of course I have those thoughts and feelings. We all do. With practice, I’ve been able to see and feel that emotion for the moment, and truly act and experience something quite different. I’ll live the vitriol only long enough to communicate it to you. Dredging it up, without hope of evolution from that particular emotion, is not something I wish to do.
My constant hope is to share with you my imperfections, my wants, and my hope for my long relationships. Somewhere in between, I hope to hear of yours either publicly or privately so that we all may “pass up pitfalls and treasure the triumphs.�
relationships, communication, utopia, mindfulness
November 10th, 2006 at 11:00 pm
[...] This week, I pined for the lotus bloom [of my family] that I long to look upon. It helped me to look at it that way, when so often I find myself thinking, “Ok, how old is the youngest? How many more years do we have to endure the co-parenting [or lack thereof] with R’s ex?� Now, don’t—if you have any care for me at all—say that I’ll have to deal with it for the rest of my life. I understand that in some way I will. But, the type of relationship will evolve. There will be less need, as the children get older, to communicate daily or semi-daily on the smallest of things—right? [...]