Becoming more present has been my religion for a long time now. But, being present is also a fad. It's an Oprah special. You can probably come back from a long week with an "in the now" certificate. I say all this because it seems bogus to try and talk about it. And yet, it's one of the least bogus parts of my life, I think. It's also a lot like what I imagine wearing a hair shirt could have been like (too severe?).
At any rate, I find that all significant changes, like marriage and motherhood, bring up the non-present gang with their torches and slander. "How dare you try and be something bigger, something more grounded, more whole, more loved, more rooted," the angry mob shouts with tin-can grins and ironclad fists.
Shaking them off is a practice of mine, and on certain days, I am a better David (think Goliath) than others.
So, being a mom fits in here too. Moments, often after the first cup of coffee or before bath time, I find myself actually paying attention. Somehow, I have silenced the crowd, and there I am. I have fallen into that space between yesterday and tomorrow, between two seconds ago and this very millisecond. Feeling my feet on the carpet. Feeling my son's impossibly small hands touch my arm, the tiny weight of his body leaning against mine.
In these miraculous pockets of bliss, I realize how hurried and blind I am most of the time. How much wasted brain space I use to store outdated files that no longer open. Or new imaginings of what else I could be doing or should be doing. What hobby or interest I should be pursuing...instead of just "not doing." Or instead of doing the most important thing I can do: be a mom. Accept. Stop the fight for whatever might be half as great as what I am.
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