Almost Moments

We have them everyday.

They are the barely noticeable hairpin turns that happen on a dime– the split second decisions that separate respect from regret, hope from despair, even life from death. Very often we are not conscious there is even a choice to be made much less a moment in which to do it.

Life speeds by. We just try to hang on.

Often it feels like a manic epic race to get… what? To band practice, tabata class, swim team, tutoring, newspaper club, piano lessons, basketball, paddle? A better body, younger look, calmer disposition, happier base-line? More prestigious publishing credentials or scintillating salad dressing???

Why?

Well, ask me mid-run, and I’d say, a touch impatiently…Obviously, because it keeps us inspired, challenged and awake in the world, not to mention healthier, creative and more likely to eat salads.

BUT, ask me after I’ve exhausted myself with these endless quests to be more evolved and my shoulders will fall, my eyes fill. I keep forgetting, like some kind of psychotic goldfish, that I don’t really care about any of them.

I forget, because it was how I was raised, how my parents were raised, how the culture tells us we need to be. And it is my natural reflex to lean in, nervous I might be missing some crucial clue to my children’s well-being. Or my own.

I forget that my REASONS WHY… my desire for us to feel inspired, healthy, and awake in the world ARE my goals. The rest are just temporary tactics.

So must I be psychotic goldfish?

No. I don’t think so. I have dabbled in deeply committed 10-week stretches to creative visualization and meditation. But, I always stop. People with a consistent practice of quiet stillness seem less likely to fall as easily into the fishbowl.

They seem to get one simple truth.

Almost exists in the moment before choice.

The breath inside that moment can either expand or contract it. Can either fill it with mindful awareness or reactive behavior. Can either transform it into personal freedom or a mental/emotional imprisonment.

In the past 24hours, I am proud and ashamed to say, it has done all of the above.

Last Thursday night, upon discovering that the Native Indian American Project we have had for over a month was due TOMORROW, I had a moment in which I could choose to totally freak out and provide unnecessary, counter-productive lectures on responsibility, organization and integrity… or figure out the best way to get it done.

I almost went for Plan A, but didn’t. Phew.

Friday morning was… not so pretty.

I would like to add the caveat that I did not sleep at all AND for everyone’s personal sanity I needed to attend an exercise class at 8:30. BUT, this is no excuse, especially, since I know that boys between 7and 10 go through a spacey, forgetful stage and it is developmental not willful disrespect.

I have, with joy in my heart, gotten breakfast in them, lunch packed for them, corn muffins made as a lucky strike extra for the project, run through a Navajo presentation rehearsal and had them practice piano.

BUT I have made several ‘get dressed’ requests and I am going to miss the class I got up early to attend. My mental clarity, emotional balance and wine or chocolate intake depend on this. So, I do not wish a lack of proper school attire to get in the way.

Regretfully, I lost it and may have said something like go to school in your underwear if you want, I give up. I went to the garage and got in the car. My sweet son Finn came running into the garage crying and said Mommy, I just want to tell you I love you.

I got out of the car, held his beautiful face in my hands, told him I loved him. I left, but halfway to the gym, burst into tears. I pulled over and called to apologize. He said it was okay. But I was not.

I can do better. I am on a quest to find the breath before the moment.