Last week I drove through lashing winds and wild rains to a small town in Connecticut, to give a talk to a group of library friends. Afterward, a woman from the audience approached me as I stepped between the podium and the book table. It was clear she had a question, one she preferred not to share with the whole crowd.
We chatted for just a few minutes, barely long enough for her to articulate her thoughts about being lost on the path of midlife, or for me to respond in any way that might be helpful. It was a conversation that really called for a walk, a cup of tea, time — not the rushed reassurance I tried to offer her while people were lining up to buy books.
But I’ve been thinking about her over the last few days, as I’ve done the mundane tasks of keeping my own life on track: watering the house plants, vacuuming, walking the dog, doing the laundry, paying bills and answering emails, raking leaves, planning dinner and shopping for groceries. Nothing terribly exciting or important, just the ordinary work of being me.
The woman’s children are grown and she’s recently retired from a full-time career that satisfied her for years. She’s neither young nor old, her health is good, her life is good. Her days, she told me, are busy still, taken up with family, volunteer work, seeing friends, and caring for others. She is making a difference in her world, grateful her new freedom means she’s able to be there for those who need her.
And yet, she said, there’s something missing. She’s not quite certain that what she’s doing is “enough.” There’s a nagging guilt, a sense of inadequacy, a suspicion that she’s not being productive enough or successful enough or impressive enough.
“I know that feeling,” I said to her. “I have it, too.”
Looking back over the last few months, I have precious little to show for my time. I’ve barely written a blog post, let alone an essay someone might actually be willing to pay for. I keep moving the words “book proposal” to the next page of my calendar, without ever actually sitting down and getting started. Apart from teaching my weekly yoga class, I’m essentially “unemployed.”
I’ve let the garden go this fall (there are no chrysanthemums in pots on our doorstep, no cornstalks propped at the threshold). I’ve not done a very good job of staying in touch with my friends, or made it to my book group, or, truth be told, found time to read the book. My summer clothes are still in the closet, augmented by the few sweaters and pairs of jeans that live there year round. I haven’t thrown a dinner party or even taken my mom out to lunch. I haven’t upgraded the operating system on my computer, or cleaned the pantry, or sorted through the old magazines piled up on the coffee table. I not only forgot a good friend’s birthday, but when I finally did call her, I had a momentary brain warp and had her age wrong by three years.
In addition, my sense of myself as a strong, hearty, physical person has come up against a new reality. Months of shifting but chronic pain have led me down one road after another, in search of an “answer.” I’ve spent a lot of money at the chiropractor’s, trying to keep my spine in alignment and my hips open and my legs moving, and more money at the office of the nurse practitioner who’s treating me for Lyme disease. The kitchen countertop is littered with homeopathic remedies and supplements, my closet floor is a jumble of shoeboxes (still trying to decide which pair of new orthotic shoes will give me the best hope of walking this winter without limping, and which ones should go back to Zappos), and I’m typing these words while perched upon my new Tush-Cush Orthopedic Seat Cushion, which is supposed to prevent me from further compressing my vertebrae.
Not exactly a picture of a high-achiever! As I confessed to my husband the other night, I sometimes worry I’ve become more of a liability in our household than a contributor. I’m definitely writing more checks than I’m depositing at the bank. (Thank goodness for royalty payments of any size!) When I look around at what my friends are doing – settling a ten-million-dollar law suit in a client’s favor, creating an early childhood program in South Africa, counseling families, writing books, hosting tours of their gardens, creating prize-winning websites – I’m proud of them and their accomplishments. At the same time, I have to admit to feeling considerably “less than.”
And yet from a distance, to the woman in the audience, I appeared to be someone who had it together and was doing a lot. “You’ve published these books,” she said, “and you also teach, you do Reiki, you have a website, you stood up here today and gave a talk.” And then, in the next breath, “And I’m not doing anything. At least, not anything that really matters.”
Ah, and there it was again, this age-old, heart-breakingly cruel thing we women do to ourselves. We compare ourselves to someone else and come up wanting. We look at what someone else is doing and feel our own contributions mean less, are worth less, amount to less. We assume other women must have things all figured out, and that we must be the only ones stumbling along in the dark, unsure of our choices, managing invisible aches and pains, uncertain of our purpose, hesitating to take the next step.
“No, no,” I rushed to assure her. “I haven’t actually written anything for weeks. I only teach a little. I mostly practice Reiki on myself these days.” It seemed important for me to let her know, in the two minutes we had together, that we were in the same boat.
But thinking about that brief conversation over the last few days, I realize we both short-changed ourselves. The woman who berated herself for not doing anything that “matters” had just told me about her family, her friends, and her volunteer work in her town. She offers her best self in places where she’s needed, and she gives her time as a gift from the heart. Tell me that doesn’t matter!
And, although it’s true I’ve been quiet lately, writing less and doing less out in the world, I also know deep down that what I have been doing is no less meaningful for being invisible.
Not having a 9 to 5 job means it’s been possible for me to be there for my friend who is sick. “Can you believe we’re doing this?” she said the other day, as I pushed her wheelchair through the hospital halls, on our way to her weekly blood test. I had just been thinking of the afternoon runs we used to take, the mountain we used to climb, the last hike we made on snowshoes. She’s right – no one could have foreseen this latest installment in our twenty-year friendship. But at least we both chose in that moment to laugh, glad — as always — to be together and making the best of things as they are. And it didn’t escape me that my own presence on this journey is a privilege. I can be at my friend’s side – driving her to appointments, dropping in mid-day with some lunch, cooking something healthy for dinner — because I’m not needed more someplace else.
I’ve been available, too, for a friend in crisis, just as I know she would be for me if the tables were turned. One step at a time, she’s negotiating the end of an old life and navigating the scary, unknown territory of a new one — the kind of venture no one should have to undertake without a companionable fellow traveler with whom to share the inevitable twists and turns of the road. Being present here means talking things over, going to court, reading the small print, hashing out a plan. I travel this rocky terrain with my friend because I can. Again, a privilege.
In both of these situations, I’m reminded every day that being present for someone else isn’t always about helping to manage the day’s challenges. Sometimes being present is simply about, well, presence. We live in a busy world, surrounded by people bent on getting things done. Our culture is fueled by our notions of doing — more, faster, better. But action isn’t always the answer. And a lot of what I’m doing these days involves a willingness to shift gears, to move gracefully and gratefully into a state of not doing. Sometimes, the best I have to offer is a willingness simply to be – with whatever the moment brings.
And so, I join my sick friend in the slow current of her “new normal.” We take a little walk and stop to watch the leaves fall, or we sit on the grass and pick shriveled beans off the vine, or we lie on our backs on an unseasonably warm October afternoon, gazing up at the sky, our thoughts drifting with the clouds. Back at home, I find myself drawn to solitude and silence, needing this time to refill the well and to reconnect with my own quiet center. Sitting down to dinner at the end of the day with my husband and our grown son, both home from work and with news to share, I look across the table and am overcome, as always, by the simple truth of life’s abundance.
I may or may not get the book proposal written. I definitely need some new shoes. I’ll take my Cat’s Claw and my magnesium and my various other pills and potions and do my daily stretches and hope for the best. I’ll fill the birdfeeder and make another meal and answer another letter from a reader. I’ll drive my friend to the doctor and bring her beautiful salads and do Reiki when her head hurts.
Meanwhile, to my own inner critic (never quiet for long) and to the woman at lunch last week, I want to say this: it’s never what we do that matters, but rather, how we do it. The secret ingredient isn’t ambition, but love. We make a gift of our lives, of ourselves, in simple ways – by being kind, by being compassionate, by paying attention, by being useful in whatever way we can, wherever we happen to be, in whatever time we have.
Postscript: Two years ago exactly, we were filming the book trailer for Magical Journey. I watched it this morning — to relive that autumn day and to have a bittersweet glimpse of our late, beloved dog Gracie running through the leaves. But then I realized that what I really needed today was to hear my soul’s own message. How easily we forget what we know to be true! Maybe I’m not alone in this? Click here.
I love what you’ve written, especially this, “and a lot of what I’m doing these days involves a willingness to shift gears, to move gracefully and gratefully into a state of not doing. Sometimes, the best I have to offer is a willingness simply to be – with whatever the moment brings.” I am entering the “60’s” and relate so well to the “not being or doing enough” – thank you for pulling me back to “it’s never what we do that matters, but rather, how we do it. The secret ingredient isn’t ambition, but love.”
Ah, presence. Reading this settled me down in the chair and reminded me both of the worth of presence as well as the worth of fine writing. Thank you.
Just what I needed to read right now! Thank you!
You always, always, always reach into my heart and see what’s there, illuminate it, and make me feel a little less along on the journey. That is definitely SOMETHING. I’m grateful for it, and for you.
You always, always, always reach into my heart and see what’s there, illuminate it, and make me feel a little less alone on the journey. That is definitely SOMETHING. I’m grateful for it, and for you.
This came at a wonderful time for me, Katrina. The easy-to-measure or highly visible contributions are always honored at the expense of the much more challenging one: to be present and to do whatever needs doing with love. I have one other thought after reading about your continued efforts to manage your spinal stuff. I’ve switched from a “Tush Cush” type cushion to the “Back Joy” thing for when I am working. It acts as a kind of basket — your “sit-bones” connect with the plastic but the bottom of the spine actually does stay free. That, and a good foot support under the desk (old rough drafts work). Let me know if you’d like more info.
The ebb and flow of life…I find myself getting so caught up in this, too. There are times when I’m so overwhelmed I can hardly breathe, cannot imagine how I could ever just STOP. And then the Universe always responds and reminds (or forces) me to slow down. And yes, I feel guilty most of the time. But I’m learning to sink into it, to appreciate and be grateful for the busy times as well as the times I an idle. Thank you for sharing this-I needed to hear it.
I wrestle with this so much–the push and pull of things that need attending to and the things you long to attend to but you have sacrifice for the greater good. If I could, I’d plan out my life and my writing and my career to the letter, but it doesn’t really work out that way, does it? Kids need feeding and tending,
people we love get sick, our bodies betray us, winters are colder and lonelier than we ever thought possible and we struggle to think clearly. We come up for air and we gasp.
I love your honesty here. I am also guilty that I am heartened by your insecurity. That someone so beautiful, and gifted and wonderful shares the same doubts that keep me up at night–I am in good company, indeed.
“I want to say this: it’s never what we do that matters, but rather, how we do it. The secret ingredient isn’t ambition, but love. We make a gift of our lives, of ourselves, in simple ways – by being kind, by being compassionate, by paying attention, by being useful in whatever way we can, wherever we happen to be, in whatever time we have.”
Oh, yes. Thank you, Katrina, for this gentle reminder, for the quiet gifts you perpetually offer here. Peace to your heart and to all hearts. xoxo
katrina,
i am that woman. we all are. thank you for making me feel like i am significant. like i matter and i am doing enough. because love and kindness is all i have most days. xx
Katrina, you are magnificent and you are loved! Thanks for always writing so honestly, rawfully, humbly of which speaks to so many of our hearts and touches so many of our souls.
You always seem to pop up at the right moment…I was wondering how you were and when I would hear from you again. As I look out my living room window, I see a blaze of glory. The trees are bright reds, yellows, and orange. How could I feel less than or bored or depressed, when such gorgeous handiwork is right outside my window. It’s as if life is a beautiful masterpiece to be savored. I often ask myself, what more could I be doing to be more involved, to make my life worthwhile. I know my limitations, with my degenerative arthritis. I visit with friends, am active in my grown children’s lives, and my family. Perhaps, I could do volunteer work or have a more regular schedule, but I am thankful to be present in the here and now. I loved your letter to yourself in Magical Journey. You are the gift you give yourself, just by being you. Appreciate it. Thank you for awakening my soul.
This really speaks to me, as I am navigating the first months as a stay-at-home mom with both kids in school ALL DAY! What am I doing with my time, what have I to show for myself? Your reflections here are helping me to sort these things out. Thank you.
Katrina, I loved what you said about HOW we do things. “I want to say this: it’s never what we do that matters, but rather, how we do it. The secret ingredient isn’t ambition, but love. We make a gift of our lives, of ourselves, in simple ways – by being kind, by being compassionate, by paying attention, by being useful in whatever way we can, wherever we happen to be, in whatever time we have.”
I needed to hear this. That beautiful quote from Albert Camus “Live to the point of tears” reminds me of what you said. I watch my children, in particular my twin 13 year old daughters doing just this, living to the point of tears as they feel every emotion, work their very hardest, play their very hardest and fall asleep fast and easily every night. As I watch them sleep, I think they are truly living to the point of tears. I have wondered too about myself as my role in my family’s life changes It is all about the laundry, the dishes, the driving and watching them all walk away. I am struggling too but I will try to remember what you said, it is how I do everything, even down to how I make the supper. I need to be here right now to keep everyone moving and happy and I can make a difference even it is just making sure the soccer socks are in the drawer! Thanks for the reminder, you always say things I need to hear – always!
Debbie
Absolutely beautiful! I too am at a lull in my ‘work’ and am fully a bit discouraged; not feeling like I’m not carrying out my purpose, not having enough opportunities to give of myself in ways that utilize my skills, voice inside, experience. Frustrated and in angst. Almost feels like a measure of my self-worth is at stake. The word complacent comes to mind and it’s not a word I embrace. I am grateful for so much And there’s this negative aspect of my work being. As an older mid-lifer who loves life, passionately and actively engages and loves learning and experiencing so many things, I can also allow myself this feeling of disgruntledness. (sp?)
Your piece is perfect for me now. Thank you for your most soothing writing. I await your next book.
So eloquently said, Katrina. I also watched your YouTube video/excerpt from Magical Journey again too and I got to tell you I am so moved when seeing or reading about Gracie. I know Tess brings you much joy, as my little Mundo does yet we are forever touched by their beloved predecessors. Old Bales (my beloved Golden who crossed over Rainbow Bridge 3 plus years ago) and your sweet Gracie have certainly instilled in us the lessons they taught us of unconditional love. As for times when we may feel “idle,” it is in those moments that we must see the truth in what is really happening because it is not “idle” but “idyllic.” Thank you for sharing your thoughts always.
Oh Katrina, as usual you’ve done it again…. nailed where I am very precisely to a keyboard. We’ve corresponded before (about our similar sons and other ways in which our lives seem to be running on parallel tracks); and here again, we’ve been going through almost the same thing a couple hundred miles apart. Thank you for giving voice to your sense of this experience. I wish I had the ability to snap my fingers and summon up a magical room where we could both zap ourselves in an instant for tea and a chat—and nothing more!—so that we could both then return to the solitude we both crave and thrive on, but which occasionally makes us lose track of the fact that among the many things we share with other human beings is an occasional sense of lostness. When we don’t seem to be racking up any of the markers our society has assigned us for keeping track of our ostensible value, it’s way too easy to start wondering if we have any—especially if we make the mistake of comparing ourselves to anyone who has a big stack of those markers. And if we spend a lot of time alone and the only sound we hear is the echo of our own internal critic bouncing off the inside of our own head, we could be in deep trouble if there’s no one to remind us that we matter and that our deepest instincts deserve our respect and our trust–even when they’re as countercultural as deliberate anti-busyness and solitude. Wishing you a peaceful fall….
Thank you so much for your wisdom! I so appreciate you and your honesty! If we can impact somebody’s day with love, we are accomplishing the most important thing, the one with eternal value. It often only takes a small act to make a huge difference. You’re words give us all such encouragement!! Thank you for sharing.
Once again, Katrina, your post goes directly to my current state of mind. Last week a dear friend and I had a conversation about this very subject. In my non-employed, homekeeper existence, your words remind me that I AM a contributing member of society, and that gratitude for having the life I always wanted is what will keep me focused on my own worth. Nothing makes me happier than brightening the lives of those I love. Once I learn to stop comparing myself to others and rejoice in what I have in my world, I hope to find the peace and acceptance of being “me”. Thank you for your beautiful words.
As a newly retired Head Start teacher, I look back and wonder how I managed to keep up the fast pace dictated by my data-driven scheduling supervisors. I knew then, and I REALLY know now, that we need to take time to just listen to 3 and 4 year old children as they enter the big world of school. My frustrations came from trying so hard in situations set up to fail. Now as a relaxed volunteer in our program, I can be the warm fuzzy, the lap to sit on, the hand to hold. Your books are truly gifts from the heart, and I am giving my 3 grown-up mother/daughters copies and hope they find the time to read them.
thank you for your gentle reminders. And try New Balance shoes. It cured my heel spur pain, if I put them on before my feet touched the floor out of bed. Support is good for all our body parts these days.
Thank you for the perfect words for me to read today. I so appreciate that you articulate and post what probably a lot of us are feeling. Thank you again.
Ahh. We women spend so much time beating up on ourselves. Myself included. I am the lady at the book signing. There is that nagging feeling ….”I could, I should be doing more; being more productive”. And I look around me and can always find someone to compare myself to and always come up short. There is always a peer who is doing more, doing it better, doing it faster. In my more sane moments I remind myself that I am the only ME. I cannot, nor should I want to be someone else. I may not volunteer in as many places as someone else, but possibly I give an equal measure of myself in quieter, less obvious ways. And here is a mind bender……maybe I deserve to have some time doing what I want, whether it is taking a walk, reading a book, taking a nap (whoa!) or just sitting and looking out the window. I think I need to reread this comment and remind myself that I wrote these words. We all need a village to help us go gently into the night and to be as kind to ourselves as we are to others.
Beautiful! I’m an Urban Zen Integrative Therapist and much of what we do is offering our presence and I’m amazed daily how this is such a powerful healing tool for all. I love receiving your posts! I’m sorry to hear you are dealing with Lyme disease. Sending Reiki!
Oh, we all are so cruel to ourselves, aren’t we, downplaying the very good, real, wonderful things that we do — which may be no more than simply being there. Yet it is so important. I do it, too — more than I should. I wonder if it might not be in part the slump that fall brings those of us who don’t have kids going back to school or some other grand passion that gets the juices flowing after the lazier days of summer when we feel we are “allowed” vacations or time off. I ask myself if I’m making every day count and for me that means some accounting for time. And really, it’s so much more than time. As you said, it is the time for a friend, the time to absorb the beauty around us or to simply dig deep and hunker down.
You speak to us all with these words of wisdom, not merely to one woman, but many. And I thank you for that.
I loved your post. I too am being treated for Lyme and it is all encompassing some days. There are no mums in my pots or fancy decorations up for Halloween. I think we have to give ourselves a break when life throws you a curve. My goal each day is to get better and do whatever it takes to do that. For me that is enough right now. I loved your post and it hit home for me!
Katrina, if you are thinking about another book, I think you should let it be OUR book. Go through this website and see all the beautiful things your readers have written to you throughout the years.What a book that would be! I have listed “Ordinary Days” on my top 10 list of Life Influencing Books. I know that I am more at ease in my skin now than in my pre Ordinary Days. And some of the comments above are exactally on-it is OUR time now. When I retired from my job as a public school high school orchestra teacher, I wasn’t quite sure what my Act III would be. (I saw Act I as Childhood and Education, Act II as Career and Family). I now have a second career as a substitute orchestra teacher. I still get to work with kids! But better yet, I do whatever I want to do when I want to do it! There is a freedom here that has been exhilarating, liberating and refreshing once I stopped the negative-self speak.I practice cello BECAUSE I WANT TO- not just because I have to learn my Albany Symphony music. I now play other music besides whatever the next concert is. I play for me.That is how music started out for me-I loved playing. My cello is my other voice.I almost lost that in my career/mothering years and myself in the process. “Ordinary Days” came at just the right time. I went and found a copy of “Mitten Strings” and I wish that I had been give it as a baby shower gift, your advice and observations are so well founded. So everyone, stop beating up on yourselves and stop looking back. Everyday is an opportunity to expand who you are.You have gotten to this point in life, with your lifetime of experiences that have created the person you are. Go forward with the gifts (and aches and pains) that you have been given. You can do what you love-not what you have to! Katrina, I am not sure that I would have achieved this state of personhood without having read your books.Thank You!
I so needed to read this post today, your message is a Godsend.
This last year has been a challenge for me and the last 6 months in particular. I have felt lately as if I do not accomplish anything and in all honesty there are some days that I do not.
Today though for the first time in a long long time I actually woke up happy! I felt as if a huge weight had fallen off my shoulders and I was ok.
I think that women do not give themselves enough credit for all of the small, seemingly mundane things we accomplish in a day that makes other peoples lives so much better and happier.
You are indeed blessed to be able to spend these days with your sick friend, and to help your other friend navigate her new life. Thant is a gift to all three of you.
Thank you for you beautiful post and for making me as well as many others feel as if we matter.
Thank you once again, Miss Katrina, for your words of wisdom, encouragement, kindness and compassion. I too have suffered of late of the very things you spoke of, and then my teacher said the following: “If it’s good enough for nature to draw in on itself in the Fall and rebuild it’s strength, only to come back in the spring with renewed life and vigor, then why isn’t it “good enough” for us to do the same for ourselves?” That thought gave me a lot to ponder…..perhaps we all need to ponder it.
As for your Lyme disease, if you were in Colorado, I’d offer you a Reflexology session, as I KNOW it would be of great benefit to you in rebuilding and supporting the healing of your immune and lymphatic systems. You might consider a session or two….just saying. Best wishes to you and all those suffering from ailments. Don’t look at it as “fighting” for your health. Look at it as a moment for you to breathe…. to regain your footing and refurbish your strength, health and wisdom. My best to you all…….
as always, your soul puts breath to the words that dwell in mine….
I love this so much, and really needed these words this week. Thank you!
Oh, I feel your pain…literally. I have had much luck with onlineshoes.com…. look for Weil by Dr. Andrew….I purchased them in black & espresso just this month! They are costly…but the relief has been incredible. Now looking for a boot that will do the trick!! Open to all suggestions! (Aside from the aches and pains, just loved your new piece!)
Oh, by the way, the name of the shoe style is FLORENCE!
Katrina, I anxiously await your posts and blogs and feel a connection to you on so many levels. I feel my path is constantly being altered and I am taking the long way around to get forward in my journey. Then I remember, it is now that we are striving for, this moment of life. Your words are able to reflect exactly what I need to hear in the moment I am reading them. Thank you for listening to your heart, to the energy around you, and staying on the pulse of positivity within our universe.
Well, I will dare to be the lone wolf. Her problem, and she has one, is lack of
GRATITUDE! You have taught us how to appreciate the moment, and enjoy all those little things that you realize you do daily. If she ISN’T walking an old friend in a wheelchair, or planning the funeral of a loved one, or fighting a disease, then she needs to re-read your books and be grateful. Oh that we should have her problem.
On the other hand, you took us full circle, with love and intent! Thank you!
Katrina, Everyday I think about the phrase ‘the gift of an ordinary day’ and how profound that is. It is the gift you have given me and so many others. Sometimes we need to be reminded. You are just where you need to be.
I love this. I’ve recently come to the conclusion that my role is about being not doing, wrote a post about that very thing last week and now see this post which cements all my thoughts. Thank you!
Thank you for sharing these wonderful words. All to often I see myself as you have written. At times I think, why bother, what else can I do, etc. You have given me a reason for moving forward.
Love this — we give each other reasons for moving forward. Thank you LaRhonda.
All I can think of to say to this beautiful and honest essay (which a number of good publications would pay for but which we get to read for free. Thank you!) is “Oh yes.” and “I know.”
I am at the opposite end of the spectrum. I am teaching 7 yoga classes a week and setting up a new teacher training and volunteering at school and I am in way over my head. I am barely finding time to walk the dog and dinner is often frozen pizza. I also am racing to the PT and the massage therapist with my knotted hamstring and torn rotator cuff and I know that frustration of pain and not being able to have the freedom of at least our bodies.
Even though we are at opposite ends, it’s the same feeling – that of comparison and insecurity and the pressing knowledge that we only have one life and we better do it right. I am so comforted by this thought of you lying in the sun with your friend and allowing the pile of magazines to just be. I can’t think of any work more meaningful or important than what you are doing.
SEVEN? I wish I could be in your classes. Funny, that our lives could be so very different and yet, even so, we share that awareness of time passing, our desire to be present, to live fully this one, good life that’s given us. xoxo
Thank you for sharing your words and your life with us. Again and again we have to be reminded that we are enough. I love being reminded that everyone feels the same way I do. That no one has it all together and has a perfect life. We are all stumbling along and doing the best we can. Being reminded of this again is a blessing.
Keep writing Katrina. We all need your words.
Thank you Gloria. I love knowing when words “land” in someone else’s heart. It does make it worth it, the thinking and writing and struggling to find the words for inner experience.
Simple, yet profound. You’ve expressed so many of my thoughts. And questions. Thank you.
Thank you Janet! It does help to be reminded, I think, that we all wrestle with the same things.
Oh, how this resonates. Especially with yet another college reunion coming up (35?! how did that happen?) which requests, ahead of time, that we gather our thoughts about where we are for the Class Report book. I can’t even begin to tell you how many brain cells I burned on that project, swinging back and forth between Why Bother? and How Truthful Should I Be? In the end, my post will be an honest rendering of a tough five years. I’m confident it will resonate with classmates I don’t even know because, please, who among us isn’t dealing with both the predictable aging process, along with the unexpected events that sideswipe us along the way, while we’re making other plans?
My life is smaller than most of my classmates’ lives. I’m taking care of a tiny corner of the world. I love and am loved. I am grateful for the joys, and mindful of the lessons that come with the sorrows. There will always be more to write about. Call me crazy, but that feels like enough.
I got a blog post out of that reunion report, at least!
https://hereswhatiknowsofar.wordpress.com/2014/10/30/a-personal-narrative-reporting-for-duty/
How could you possibly doubt your relevance when you read all of these grateful comments? In my opinion your doing exactly what your meant to do, your using your gift of seeing and being able to speak to so many about struggles we r not always able to articulate, you make sense of them and bring acceptance out in all of us. Oh, your doing… Big time!!!