Or as we like to call it in my house, 34 base 12.
As I embark on my fifth decade on this planet, I truly feel like the luckiest person in the world. My life is wonderful. I have ease and joy and love on a daily basis. I have a four-and-a-half-year-old to keep every moment interesting and a baby gestating inside to ensure the next years are even more full. I have a loving family, supportive friends, a wonderful home, a garden that never fails to deliver a dose of wonder and magic just when I need it. I have a business that gives me creative satisfaction and material comforts. I eat amazing food and enjoy modern comforts like running water each and every day.
I’m wise enough to know that appreciating these things is what will give me daily happiness. I’m practiced in the art of noticing and naming my blessings.
Yes, my life is full of the earthly delights. At the same time, what I want for the world feels impossible. I want to wave a magic wand and exhaust the Dixie fire, saving my in-laws’ house and so many others. I want to live in a society that values science and our responsibility to the planet, that somehow finds an immediate and effective solution to this climate crisis. I want ample reparations for affected communities to atone for America’s racist and genocidal history. I want to feel confident that today’s children and their children will have a chance for a livable and happy existence.
My therapist introduced me to the Rumi quote, “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
I spend a lot of time in that field. I sit in that field with my gratitude and happiness.
I look into the eyes of the me filled with my perpetual anger at the status quo and my escalating fear for the future and my children’s futures.
And we sit, the two of us together, today and most days. Wonder and joy and terror and overwhelm all creating this moment of my human experience.
And today, on my
40th 34th12 birthday, I ask for more. Please, more. Thank you, and more.