Love

Here is what I love
Chapters that are 2 pages long

Here is what I am working on
Easing up on myself

I committed to reading one chapter of Momma Zen every Sunday. Already on the second Sunday I flaked. Do I get to excuse myself because it was Thanksgiving weekend or because I am a new mom and was probably really tired for some reason or that I simply just forgot. I think the only person that I have to justify myself to is myself and this is where the easing up on myself comes along. So, it's officially Monday (by 4 minutes to be exact) but if I had started writing 20 minutes ago instead of writing some emails, then it would have still been Sunday and I would have only missed one week. So much for easing up on myself.

Here is where the 2 page chapter comes in. I was going to catch up and make up the week I had "missed" by writing about two chapters, but then I thought, "Who am I rushing for? What on earth am I trying to prove?" And I realized that I am trying to prove to myself that the old me still exists: the organized, highly capable, multi-tasking, can-do girl who just gets stuff done. When really, I am now the absent-minded, forget everything unless its written down, distracted mom who manages to misplace her phone at least once a day. I thought that if I could commit to something once a week, that is for no one's benefit than my own, maybe I could believe that the old me is still in around, hiding on there somewhere.

And then of course, I read exactly what I needed to read. And I stopped at one chapter. Chapter 3 will be waiting for me next week. For today, in this short second chapter, there in black and white, it says: "It's not what you think it is. First, what you call your life is not yours at all - not yours to plan, manipulate, or control, at least not very often." (Momma Zen, p. 11) My life in fact, will never be as it was nor will I ever be how I was. There is no one better to remind me of this than the almost 9 month old nugget whose life is about being in the present moment, every moment of everyday. And though I can "schedule" our days in theory, there is an underlying unpredictable chaos that is bubbling right under the surface. I can twist and grind and clench my way to things looking the way that I want them to, but at the end of the day, the only person who suffers is me.

And then, bam, the sentence of all sentences:
" I was humiliated to see that the maturity and serenity I thought I had achieved was simply the result of having things my way all the time." (Momma Zen, p. 12)

And there you have it. Its not about me. And, its not even about him. It's about loving what is, what is not and what may never be.