Good morning, friends! It’s been an eventful past week and beyond for me and my family. A week of firsts, all bundled into one beautiful little boy: first great-grandchild, first grandchild, first child, first nephew. Sol is one very lucky baby, absolutely surrounded by love–it’s awesome. He was born on June 5th in the morning. We can’t stop touching him and rubbing and kissing his warm little round head. It’s impossible. He smells delicious.
We went to Jess and Lauren’s for a proper visit yesterday (proper meaning I could snuggle him as long as I wanted, which wasn’t possible at the hospital) and he slept most of the time we were there, as babies do: they are masters at shutting out overstimulation. He did wake up once, however, to offer a sly look at his Uncle Van’s camera:
Obviously, I am going to be one of those annoying grandmothers who can’t stop rhapsodizing about her grandchildren.
It’s funny, though–I’ve been thinking about how many opposites I’ve experienced in this one lifetime: maintaining a mostly public persona to becoming a relative hermit; largely ignoring my children to them now overwhelming my world; over-depending on Scott to not depending on him at all to becoming healthfully interdependent with him; and there are others I don’t want to try to think of now because they’re really not my point at the moment. My point-of-the-moment is that I’ve said and thought so many things in the past that have come back to bite me in the butt that I no longer see the purpose in harboring strong opinions about anything!
One of those is how I used to roll my eyes at women who refused to be called Grandma. I thought they were vain and ridiculous, but I swear on Thor’s hammer that I find I cannot STAND being called Grandma. Hah! In my mind, Grandma means old. Scott was holding Sol and when he passed him over to me, saying, “Let’s let Granny hold you for a minute,” a flash of red li-ter-ally crossed my vision and I was overcome with a sudden fury that filled my entire being. It was like being hit by a freight train carrying a volcano spewing molten lava, angry hornets, and fire ants with little hammers. It passed in a nanosecond but boy HOWDY was it powerful. Yeah, I think it’s a No on the G-word. I am Nanna, goddammit.
It’s humbling to be kicked in the ass by your own opinions. It’s character-building. It’s eating your proverbial vegetables in a big old hearty bowl of crow stew. With your hat on the side. I figure I’m getting a few of my karmic repercussions out of the way in this lifetime so I can focus on other stuff the next time around.
Next time I think I want to be an FBI agent.
It’s nice thinking of “next times” again. I’ve accepted that my interests cycle in phases, and I’m just beginning to come out of what I call my “cheerful agnosticism” phase. This is what happens to me when I don’t read any spiritual books or maintain any outright spiritual practices. Nobody can tell me it’s impossible to be happy without spiritual beliefs because I know for a fact that isn’t true (another opposite to notch onto my karmic belt!). One can live quite happily with a solely humanistic mindset. There’s a ton of joy in being human. I adore being human and studying other humans: it’s one of my chiefest pleasures.
But I begin to miss the otherworlds after awhile. Something happens when I deliberately turn my mind to the inner, unexplored, dark places: when I go over the wall, my soul expands with the vastness of the unknown universe on the other side, I begin to breathe deeply and feel different emotions. As far as so-called “negative” emotions go, when I’m human-focused I feel a lot of fear in the bright comfort of my cozy room, fear that I’ll lose what I have. But when I’m spirit-focused and over-the-wall, I feel sadness—sadness over broken relationships and wounds that can’t be healed. It’s an interesting distinction.
Spirit focus is really hard for me because it requires vigilance and interaction and challenge; there’s no sinking into the cushions of a comfortable, securely-ordered world. I see that world as splashing around in the shallows and the other as learning to breathe underwater. Both have pros and cons.
We pick our pains and pleasures and sometimes they pick us and we have to learn to roll with them. Or not…. we can self/medicate ourselves into oblivion, too, and learn very little. There are lots of options. The medication and escape routes end up making our journey longer in the long run, but really, who cares about that? We can take however much time we want and need. There’s no hurry.
And now I’m going to go back to thinking about this:
Have a great week. If you can, find someone to hug. xo