Missing the Obvious

Spring came late to Portland this year. And as I've done every spring since I moved to my current home, I've eagerly watched for the camellia bush outside my kitchen window to bloom. Since it is on the north side of the building, it is usually the last to bloom. So as its sisters on the south side burst into lovely colors and smells, I stepped up watching for 'my' camellia to bloom. As the month passed, there were absolutely no flowers on it. It must have been trimmed at the wrong time last year, because there was not a single bud on the entire plant. I kept watching and watching, no camellias. I was so focused on the camellias that I almost missed out entirely on the azalea that is planted right next to it. It wasn't until the roses started rioting across the back fence that I turned my attention away from the camellia and its lack of flowers this year.

And this in turn made me consider what else I have missed while focused too closely on something else. The short answer is that I'll probably never know for certain. But it bears some examination so as to reduce the occurrence of it in the future. Like most people, I've spent the majority of my adulthood wrapped up in whatever task/person/event demanded my attention at the time, to the point of shutting out even the idea that other things could or should merit some of my attention as well.

I've been a master at missing the obvious most of my life. If I had a dollar for every time someone said, "it's as plain as the nose on your face," or "if it had been a snake, it would have bit you," I'd never need to work a day in my life. And that is not counting the times I have heard, "how could you not know?" I was always too busy trying to be a good daughter/mother/wife/friend to even recognize other possibilities that would have enriched my life if I'd but welcomed them in. There are a few huge ones that come to mind and I'm sure there must be dozens of others.

And don't get me started on the more subtle possibilities that I have let pass me by. They must number in the hundreds, if not thousands. I'm fairly blind as far as subtle things going on in my own life, my own possibilities. Which is odd because I tend to recognize the subtleties that occur for other people around me. The standard joke with me is that I wouldn't catch a hint if it hit me upside the head with a two-by-four. I suspect this might be a by-product of focusing on one thing and missing another. But part of it must be due to my preference for directness. So, what's to be done?

I'm happy to report that I've gotten better about noticing/recognizing some things that come into my life unexpectedly. I'm not to the level of awareness that I hope to achieve, however. And I don't think it is necessary to throw the baby of specific focus out with the bathwater in trying to open myself up to more possibilities and realities. The trick must lie in balancing the two, the question is how. I suspect that it demands a shifting of focus, a more deliberate observation of what is happening both around me and within me. Not focusing on the forest or the trees, but on both in a constant moving back and forth. It requires considerable discipline to avoid sleepwalking through life, to live deliberately and wide awake.

My long observation of the camellia wasn't for naught, however. For the first time since I have been watching it, I noticed that a song sparrow kept hopping along my window sill. And as the weather grew warmer, I saw that she was using the sill as a launching pad into the bush. Once it was warm enough to open the windows, there were delightful baby bird noises coming from it. So, my focus may have been misdirected for awhile, but there were rewards anyway. As there always seem to be, if we but recognize them.

New Year's thoughts

As I was thinking about this post, I was watching "Shirley Valentine", a movie about a 40-something woman who impetuously decided to live her life, as opposed to the life that had moved in and taken over her months and years. There was a line in the movie that perfectly captured what I had been thinking about in regards to my own life. "I fell in love with the idea of living."

As I deliberately considered what in my life needed to be chucked out with the garbage, I also began to muse on what needed to be embraced and welcomed in. The answer that came back to me was the word PLEASURE. Pleasure in all of its forms, large or small, lasting or transitory. And I recognize that, for me at least, this has to be a conscious choice that is made over and over each day until it becomes the norm rather than the exception in my life.

Some of this can be achieved simply by noticing and appreciating the things that are around me. The flickers and robins that nest near my home. The squirrels that cavort through the trees. The sound of rain as it drips outside my window. The smell of baking, the feel of silk and wool, the gurgle of someone else's baby. All of the free and delightful things that cross my path and don't cost a dime.

Then there are those things that I will make small efforts to welcome in. Getting up early to head into the woods just to see what interesting birds are to be found in that time and place. Eschewing cheap chocolate for the occasional perfect truffle. A glass of wine with a dear friend. A lingering glance and a gentle touch just when it is most needed.

There are also those larger things that I will go full out to hunt down and capture. A satisfying career, the ability to spin fine yarn, a fulfilling relationship and expanded awareness.

I am determined to wake up each morning asking myself the question, "How can I most fully live today?" And equally determined to follow the answer through whatever adventures may present themselves. Some days will give small delights, others will give full blown, mind blowing pleasures. All of them, when approached with awareness, will give something that enhances life as a whole. Some will give pains, it is true, but even those will bring experiences and knowledge that could enhance life further down the road.

I knew a Franciscan friar once who gave a retreat talk that he called his "fantasy of death." In this fantasy, when one dies and goes to heaven, one is nearly tackled and bear-hugged by God. God is so excited to see them and can't stop asking how the experience was and what they liked best, what was their favorite part. And I realize now that I've not focused on my favorite parts at all. It's past time that I got a list of those things going.

So many of us view life as work, a slog, and even suffering, to be gotten through. I know that was the case for me throughout most of my life. But, wouldn't it be better if we viewed it in a different way? Shouldn't we want to be the child we once were, wanting to lick the cake beaters, have one more story, suck down the last drop of juice? We were wiser as children than we are as adults.

Granted the less wonderful things will raise their heads and we will have to deal with them. But they simply must be less draining to those who are living out loud and to the fullest with the intention of living well. I'm determined to find out first hand. If you're trying to find me, it will be easy. I'll be the one standing over there with a huge smile, licking the chocolate of life off my lips. Care to join me?