I have a summer fantasy. It started way back during
university. It goes like this: Summer is time for travel, reading books,
drinking iced beverages, staying up late, camping, campfires, connecting with
friends, fairs and fair food, swimming in the river/lake/ocean, exploring
creative outlets, music festivals, flip flops, falling in love all over again while
we go on midnight walks holding hands and having sex pretty much where ever and
whenever we please. And fit, tanned bodies.
This is my summertime reality: I am sitting here on my
unmade bed, using a broken laundry basket for a desk, stealing a moment to
desperately write down the discord I am feeling realizing my summer actually is
nursing a nearly two year old toddler and wondering how to make it come to a satisfactory
end for both of us; hiding from the hot, hot heat in my basement; folding and
stashing away six loads of laundry, wondering why I can’t keep only those six
loads worth, and chuck out every other stitch of clothing that remains in our
dressers and closets. It is scraping and scraping and scraping the paint on the
deck and house so it can get that new, preserving coat or three. It is sealing
the roof and seems on a leaking ’77 camping trailer we bought to help make some
of my summer dreams a reality. It is spending more money than we thought we
would on these upgrades and wondering if $300 more for a paint spray gun will
be worth the time we hope it will save us. It is navigating two small kids and
a husband who is equally hot, tired, grumpy, and full of his own dashed summer
dreams, dreams, that like mine have become overwhelmed with home maintenance.
It is forcing time to talk and touch so we don’t end up yelling later on.
Instead of falling in love, sometimes it feels more like clenching the thread
of love that holds us together and desperately trying to remember we are on the
same team, working for the same goal. Hoping for the same dreams to come true.
I used to make elaborate plans for travel and leisure. Precious
few of them ever came to fruition - and usually because they were paid for
somehow by work. Then, being work trips, were not exactly about luxuriating on
a beach somewhere. Still amazing trips though. Many, many of my future plans
and schemes were really only wasted hours dreaming dreams that never came to
pass. I feel too maxed out to dream right now. Yet, even now there is potential
to be cooking up elaborate plans for the next five years. My husband wants to
dream. I want to settle down deeply in the here and now. I don’t want to look
any farther ahead than supper with friends tonight and kids swimming lessons
that needed to be booked a week in advance. Being in this season of small
people has seemed to weigh me down to a near stop. I took a lot of my dreaming,
scheming ways into my first two years of parenthood, but I am resigning myself
more to the snail’s pace at which we move through life, and the incredible changeability
that happens moment to moment in the lives of small children and all they
encompass, even while everything seems to also unbelievably be constantly the
same.
I was gifted a mantra
about six months ago. It came as I lay in the darkness of the January and February bed, reading
books about permaculture while my baby slept beside me, starting tomato and asparagus seedlings in paper cups
on top of my fridge. I was voracious in my need to create this garden oasis of
berries, herbs and vegetable abundance; however much landscaping is required to make the
steep hillsides in my yard terraced garden plots. Unemployed I may be, and
unafraid to wield a shovel and wheelbarrow, but time is not one of the
currencies I can trade in greatly. That exchange happens more highly in the
area of stories read, baths given, strollers packed for outings and the general
preparation and deconstruction of meals. I realized that my garden dreams were
not going to come true this season. Probably not next season either. I could
only do what was in my hand to do, a little here and there, a half hour stolen
between pushing swings, or weeds quickly pulled up from the cracks in the
sidewalk as we draw with chalk. More than this space, these people will always be my
responsibility, and the space, the children and I will always be a work in progress. So while things have
ground to a near halt for me, the mantra that has filled my heart with optimism
and allowed me to breathe gratefully, has brought me back to living very
presently in this moment only is, “I have all the time in the world.”
When I am tempted to become anxious about what may come five
years from now, when I get frustrated that grass has been choking out my perennial
beds, when my hugelkultur lays half-finished for the season, and the other
little projects are scattered about unmade I can breathe and try not to worry
about it. I can read one more story. I can take my kids to the creek instead. I
can scrape the deck paint and tackle each task a little at a time. I have all
the time in the world.
Instead of dreaming of being away, doing exotic things, or
spending energy dreaming of a somewhat murky future with potential career options
or relocations, I can rest knowing I have all the time in the world.
I’ve heard the “go-getters” in my travels say things like, “if
you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” It might seem utter nonsense to base my
life on an idea that is actually completely false. I do not, in fact, have ALL
the time in the WORLD. Don’t think I don’t understand that. It is very apparent
to me. I think the truth of “All the time in the world” is inextricably linked
to “The most time you have.” It is only now. At once, “now” is both fleeting
and eternal. I’m not saying that I’m
never going to plan ahead for something; or that I’m going to stop dreaming
about the things that light my spark. I’m just choosing to be here, now.
Imperfectly, I assure you, but I think this kind of presence in time is
actually where all the dreams come true. As for my summer fantasy, there may not
be fit bodies, but there are definitely flip flops.
Val
ReplyDeleteI read this in a bad mood. It is too hot to go outside, ride my horse and do all the stuff I waited all winter to do. And the mosquitos are coming out to totally wreck what's left of my day.
Then I read your blog. Now ...
I have all the summer in the world.
well done.
Tyler
Glad I was able to suspend time for you! Thanks for reading.
DeleteV
Far,far deeper thoughts than I ever had as a parent of little ones, who are the ultimate perennial projects in our life, & they're almost all grown!
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on becoming detached from the big plans we all make in our heads and focusing on what life IS, while much of the rest of the world's occupants are busy making other plans. Someone much wiser than us mentioned 1700 years ago that our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee....you know the guy...Oggie I think his nickname was 😉
Ha ha! I don't know if I've actually detached myself, but I am trying to move in that direction.... And, yeah, Oggie and I get on pretty well...
DeleteV
This was so, so very good! I feel like I'm looking in a mirror. I just got back from a family vacation, and, well... I now feel like I need a "sans-family vacation" because that week away was a lot of work for the parent part of the family!
ReplyDeleteBut summer goes on, and rest will happen. It might just be an hour with a book instead of an entire afternoon.
Yes! Those precious hours... or minutes... where we get to grab a hold of ourselves! Indispensable! Thanks for reading and responding!
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Thanks to Tyler for suggesting this read. Great food Val. Very insightful and honest. Reminds me of a lecture attended and the book I read a lifetime ago while living in Hawaii in the early 70's. "Remember, Be Here Now", written by Ram Dass, an American teacher who journeyed through India and spent time with spiritual teachers while there. You've pretty much nailed the crux of that idea. You're absolutely right. To be here now is really all that we ever have. Well written. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading, Robert! I will have to check out Ram Dass. The idea of being present in the moment obviously is nothing new, but it has grabbed my attention for the last five years or so and most of what I learn about life always comes back to this. I strive to get better at remaining here, now.
DeleteVal