I’m working on paying close attention to moments when I find myself getting distracted, checking out, or feeling off. Now, let me try to explain what I do next. It’s like a combo move where I acknowledge the feeling, calm myself down, and attune to what’s happening around me.
Every now and then, I like to read a few pages of “Conscious Parenting” on my Kindle. Today, while I was at the beach, I found a cozy spot on the warm sand, with the misty fog lightly kissing my cheek. I flipped onto my stomach and indulged in a few pages of the book. It explores the idea that parenting is primarily a process of personal growth and self-awareness, putting ourselves first and guiding our children second. It’s interesting to think how much our own childhood experiences shape us as parents and how we often get caught up in our own quirks and play ego power games.
I’ve been working on this aspect of my life, and I have to say, I’m making progress. The word that comes closest to describing what I’m experiencing is an abundance of patience. However, patience is usually associated with enduring something unwanted, like boredom or irritation. A more fitting word would probably be “presence.” It’s like being in a state of total focus, where I’m fully present and attentive to Evelyn’s amazing insights and Dave’s loving nature.
Earlier, I observed three women riding horses on the beach. One of them was leading a muscular horse, and I noticed the woman’s pull caused the horse to chomp excessively at the bit. At one point, the woman spun the horse in a circle, seemingly trying to scold it. It appeared that they were out of sync, with the woman pulling and the horse pushing. I turned to Dave and commented that the horse seemed too much for her to handle. Oh, how I would love to hop on that horse and let it run!
I’m genuinely in love with my life and this very moment. Sometimes, just to challenge myself, I imagine receiving devastating news, like the loss of a dear friend. It’s a test of my own resilience. And even though I know my equilibrium would falter, like a tightrope walker losing their balance, I would take a deep breath, acknowledge the painful truth of the situation, reach out to those who love me, and trust in their support. Every time I do this, I find myself regaining my center and aligning with my true self.
I’ve reached a point where I know, no matter what comes my way, I’ll be okay. It’s interesting to say that, almost as if I’m testing the universe. Perhaps it’s the calm that follows the storm, similar to when Lieutenant Dan screamed at the storm and finally made peace with God.
The important thing is that I may stumble and feel wobbly at times, but I will not let myself fall.
Take care.
Love, Jaclynn
PS This post’s photo is of my Dad crossing the suspension bridge on the Wonderland Trail, a 93-mile hike around Mount Rainier. It’s one if the most spectacular experience of my life, especially to have done it with him.
Going On 40 