(photo: Road to Graceland) “Am I no longer young, and still not half perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.”
from the poem “Messenger” by Mary Oliver
During my recent trip to Houston I kept hearing myself say “Life is so interesting!” while in conversations with close friends. Out of context, and perhaps in, those words sound and look so trivial and bland. Perhaps like Mary Oliver I should say instead how absolutely astonishing life is!
Yesterday while on another writing retreat when Karla or Rebecca one commented, “Well, it’s another learning experience,” I retorted loudly, “I’m absolutely sick of that statement!” They weren’t even talking to me as I busied myself elsewhere in our secret hide-out cabin, but I didn’t hesitate throwing in my two cents.
How does life being interesting, to being astonishing, to viewing life as another learning experience all come together at this moment? I’m not ready to give up learning from all that life presents to me, and indeed the diversity of experiences is interesting, but standing in the muck of it in a state of pure astonishment fits so much better: letting it all sink in, mouth agape, pondering how I got here, in that all too familiar less-than-half-perfect state.
Coming into the last years of my fifties I most definitely expected that my awareness would have so expanded that wisdom would be readily accessible. Instead, here I am with a bundle of questions and a growing curiosity about what it all means, whether contemplating the miracles of life or the sheer pettiness of half of what I spend time trying to understand.
This morning amidst coffee conversation, I remarked on the beauty of having arrived by accident at Sacred Heart Elementary in Austin at 22 years of age, interviewed and hired by the principal, Sister Antoinette, who ushered me into the world of education with comforting and encouraging words that have continually guided and sustained me now in this field for 35 years. The miracle and magic of life had me walking with or sitting across from Sister “Kitty” yet again the weekend before last in Houston, clearly astonished once more at the strength of this connection we have preserved and the utter holiness of it, highlighted by Kitty’s own ageless beauty that glows from her 70 plus years of service and love for whomever she sits across from.
I carted an indoor Greek lunch picnic to a much anticipated appointment with Gene, my Einstein-look-alike therapist that I’ve talked with for well over a decade. Although I acknowledge the therapy that has indeed happened in this relationship, the word therapist doesn’t come close to describing all that our connection has encompassed: Gene was my most engaged and influential thesis advisor, later becoming a fellow traveler/explorer in life, fellow philosopher, friend, teacher, mentor, and crucial guide back into the world of marriage, as well as into middle-age and beyond.
Sitting in his substitute office while his home office, damaged from Hurricane Ike, still undergoes repairs, I became acutely aware of the hours Gene and I have shared, both on the phone and in person. Like with Sister Kitty, Gene has consistently encouraged me to keep my mind on what really matters – the beautiful simplicity of learning to stand in absolute awe of life without feeling like I need to understand it all. Yes, when I am able to become still enough to keep my mind on what really matters, it does indeed strike me how incredibly astonishing life continues to be.
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.”
from the poem “Messenger” by Mary Oliver
During my recent trip to Houston I kept hearing myself say “Life is so interesting!” while in conversations with close friends. Out of context, and perhaps in, those words sound and look so trivial and bland. Perhaps like Mary Oliver I should say instead how absolutely astonishing life is!
Yesterday while on another writing retreat when Karla or Rebecca one commented, “Well, it’s another learning experience,” I retorted loudly, “I’m absolutely sick of that statement!” They weren’t even talking to me as I busied myself elsewhere in our secret hide-out cabin, but I didn’t hesitate throwing in my two cents.
How does life being interesting, to being astonishing, to viewing life as another learning experience all come together at this moment? I’m not ready to give up learning from all that life presents to me, and indeed the diversity of experiences is interesting, but standing in the muck of it in a state of pure astonishment fits so much better: letting it all sink in, mouth agape, pondering how I got here, in that all too familiar less-than-half-perfect state.
Coming into the last years of my fifties I most definitely expected that my awareness would have so expanded that wisdom would be readily accessible. Instead, here I am with a bundle of questions and a growing curiosity about what it all means, whether contemplating the miracles of life or the sheer pettiness of half of what I spend time trying to understand.
This morning amidst coffee conversation, I remarked on the beauty of having arrived by accident at Sacred Heart Elementary in Austin at 22 years of age, interviewed and hired by the principal, Sister Antoinette, who ushered me into the world of education with comforting and encouraging words that have continually guided and sustained me now in this field for 35 years. The miracle and magic of life had me walking with or sitting across from Sister “Kitty” yet again the weekend before last in Houston, clearly astonished once more at the strength of this connection we have preserved and the utter holiness of it, highlighted by Kitty’s own ageless beauty that glows from her 70 plus years of service and love for whomever she sits across from.
I carted an indoor Greek lunch picnic to a much anticipated appointment with Gene, my Einstein-look-alike therapist that I’ve talked with for well over a decade. Although I acknowledge the therapy that has indeed happened in this relationship, the word therapist doesn’t come close to describing all that our connection has encompassed: Gene was my most engaged and influential thesis advisor, later becoming a fellow traveler/explorer in life, fellow philosopher, friend, teacher, mentor, and crucial guide back into the world of marriage, as well as into middle-age and beyond.
Sitting in his substitute office while his home office, damaged from Hurricane Ike, still undergoes repairs, I became acutely aware of the hours Gene and I have shared, both on the phone and in person. Like with Sister Kitty, Gene has consistently encouraged me to keep my mind on what really matters – the beautiful simplicity of learning to stand in absolute awe of life without feeling like I need to understand it all. Yes, when I am able to become still enough to keep my mind on what really matters, it does indeed strike me how incredibly astonishing life continues to be.
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