The sun came out in a profound way, the last day of April rivaling the best of summer. My mother-in-law arrived on a jetplane to meet her nine week-old granddaughter. James came home for lunch and early for dinner. Giovanna had her Grandma. None of us could keep our lips off of our squishy gorgeous baby.
Love was in the balmy breezy sweet clean air.
They were making dinner together; my husband and his mother and my daughter; while I cared for Skyla. For once I didn’t have to multitask. Two of my three major evening responsibilities (Giovanna and dinner) were out of my hands.
So what did I do?
I took a walk.
I slipped Skyla into my trusty front pack and I walked through the city in the heat I love so desperately, the heat I’d been craving since it sidled away eight months earlier. The sky shone robin egg’s blue and flowers popped out of the ground at every opportunity and the trees loomed like giants. Bicyclists whizzed by and people walked their dogs and children drew on the sidewalks. The lake brought certain peace while the volcanic mountain, so big it looked like a painting in the sky, humbled us mere mortals.
We are at the mercy of the earth.
And on this day, Mother Nature graced the Pacific Northwest with a lush and lustrous aura. The juicy green and glassy blue landscape like a highly addictive drug, the ether charged with something golden and Good.
I was getting exercise while connecting with nature, roaming my patch of the planet both paved and wild. My husband was at home. My daughter was happy. My baby was strapped to my heart, a smiling cooing suckling sleeping angel, the light of heaven pouring out of her in the form of pure unadulterated love.
I became rigid with contentment which isn’t as lovely as it sounds. While climbing a long set of stairs, I had to stop. My heart cramped.
I was afraid.
How could life get better than this? How long could I hold onto these riches? How could I possibly feel this happy when so many people are starving and sick and depressed? I was standing at the top and looking over the edge.
Anxiety wanted to ruin my moment. If everything Good is ruined by worries, what’s left? Why is it so hard to let ourselves feel mind-numbingly happy?
My theory? Because we grow attached to the current picture of our life. And we know deep down we can’t take it with us. Everything exists only in fleeting passages.
My baby will soon be grown.
The weather will soon turn.
We intuit these truths of impermanence and we fret that everything will change before we are ready. Before we have really gotten to know someone or told them how we feel or followed a dream or appreciated the perfume of prolific oxygen.
I stood there for a moment, deciding that I deserved to feel Good without guilt or anxiety. I’d hit some lows the week before and I’d learned some lessons. I’d waited long and patiently for this baby and for the spring.
So I gathered presence around me and I breathed it in and I knew it: the best is yet to come. I could learn how to move comfortably within my natural state of joy. Instead of aching along with society, I could take my birth right and use it to weave light into the dark places.
My joints loosened and I noticed the moss on the edges of the stairs like a decorative trim. I took the next step and emerged out of the shade. Sun flooded my eyeballs as if to say, yes.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
– Marianne Williamson