Allowances

January 21, 2014 Candace Morris 0 Comments

Tuesday of last week


Tuesday of this week
I have to say that sometimes the contradictions of life are so jarring.  One week, I am sitting poolside with beautiful waiters bringing me drinks and forgetting that I was ever frustrated by motherhood or scared of death.  The next, I am sitting in the gray light, sipping coffee from a Mexican cup with a beautiful baby bringing me puzzle pieces, forgetting that I was on vacation only a few days ago.  

Sidenote:
Have you ever tried to read while in the company of a toddler?  At this stage, it's an exercise in getting her used to Momma having her contemplative minutes in the morning...that she is to entertain herself.  I need to her to understand that not every single moment of my awakeness is dedicated solely to her needs and entertainment.  This being said, almost every morning I end up laughing (or crying) because it's hilariously comic to try and read or write while she stands next to me, scratching the pages, throwing books or toys into my lap, or furiously signing "help!" to climb up to the couch.  


Life with a toddler
life at all, for that matter
seems to me
to be all about
allowances

I allow her to see me making allowances for myself, despite her needs.
I allow myself to make allowances for her, despite my convictions.

I suppose I mean to say this morning,
in the gray light,
sipping coffee from my Mexican cup,
that sometimes life is confusing because we make it confusing.
We rigidly decide how it will look
forming contracts with divinities
to guarantee pleasure
and avoid pain.

When the realities of life set in
sometimes the grief's source
is our very noncompliance,
our stubbornness to accept a fate we never agreed to.

This morning, I read this as Bowie tugged at me:
"...perhaps nothing ever really attacks us except our own confusion.  Perhaps there is no solid obstacle except our own need to protect ourselves from being touched.  Maybe the only enemy is that we don't like the way reality is now and therefore wish it would go away fast.  But what we find is that nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.  If we run a hundred miles in an hour to the other end of the continent in order to get away from the obstacle, we find the very same problem waiting for us when we arrive.  It just keeps returning with new names, forms, and manifestations until we learn whatever it has to teach us about where we are separating ourselves from reality, how we are pulling back instead of opening up, closing down instead of allowing ourselves to experience fully whatever we encounter, without hesitating or retreating into ourselves."
Pema Chodron 
When Things Fall Apart


There was a heaviness I was able to momentarily shake in Mexico.  Upon returning to Washington, I returned to the burden of bearing up under life, with all its fight and confusion.  I'm engaged in a continued exhaling prayer for Kelly's healing.  I'm perpetually breathing in the sacrifices and bravery required to maintain a monogamous commitment with my dearest soul, Joel. I'm repeatedly reminding Bowie and I that our lives are a fight for gracious balance, kind acceptance, and simple clarity.

And I'm sipping a margarita by the pool.
And I'm sipping coffee in the gray.

And making allowances.
This is my life.
I love it.

p.s. 





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