In third grade we sang about the bear who went over the mountain to see what he could see–to see what he could see. I am reaching the other side of the mountain and I think all that I will find, like the bear, is the other side of the mountain. The other side of the mountain will be much like this side, I think. There will be trees–perhaps more, perhaps less. There will be rocks–more craggy, perhaps or rounder. I am not sure whether the weathered side of the mountain is the side I am leaving or the side I am approaching. The temperature may be warmer or colder–the humidity higher or lower–the angle of descent sharper or more obtuse. It is a mountain after all. It cannot be shaped like a teepee–equidistant, equiangular on all faces. And if it could, what fun would that be?
Sometimes I crown myself queen of imagery–the princess of metaphor–archdeacon of allegory. I have read a lot of spiritual stuff lately. I have learned about the 4 agreements and the power of now. I have even read up on the new earth. This I have added to the ongoing search that is mindful meditation and celebrating the moment in which I live. From moment to moment it helps. Then I slip back into the habits of planning, hoping, dreaming. All those habits take me out of now and put me firmly into a tomorrow that does not yet exist. When I am not in now, I don’t think I exist. The I that is me is somewhere else–in a non-existant future, or a distantly recalled past. What was yesterday? What was last year? Who is this woman living in my body?
So, here is the mountain. The mountain is now. It is one foot up, one foot down, repeat. I have no idea what I will find. I expect it will probably be whatever I give attention to in the moment. It usually happens that way. I find what I am looking for whether I know what that is or not. I find what I am looking for whether I recognize it or not.
In this moment, right this minute, I am at peace with myself. Cannot speak for 5 minutes from now, but in this moment I am at peace with Lane dying and going on to whatever comes next for him. I am at peace with my children aging and raising their families–each very differently–but neither with less love than the other. I am at peace with my home, with my sustenance, with the level of comfort I still maintain. I am at peace that I have somehow put a very nice man on the defensive and I don’t understand how, only that he is. He will either come round or not. It will be whatever it is. Now it is quiet and it is just me. ..and it is ok.
I am at peace that my work may not be my work for much longer. It isn’t that I am weary of my job, My job may just be weary of the changes that the past year has made in me. I cannot say I see the differences, but those who make the decisions about staying and going do. I think I am aware, present, but my reality may flow through a different filter. Whatever happens, I will do my best in the moment and try not to take it personally. I will be impeccable with the word and believe that He who has held me this long in my life will not let me go just yet.
While I wait for that nice man to stop being afraid, I will live this moment as best I can. The breath flows softly and sweetly in and out of my lungs. The love falls softly and sweetly out of my heart. Were he here I would stroke his arm and tell him he is in no danger from me. I have no plans for his life or his freedom. I have no plans for my own. In this moment I want to be, and I want to see the other side of the mountain as each moment unfolds.
