Vivid Living

I’m back! No, I haven’t run off to Tahiti although the notion of a clean getaway from the crush of life does sound appealing.  In fact, I’m sitting at one of my favorite writing haunts, The St. Mark’s Coffeehouse, looking at the following anonymous message scribbled in pink chalk: Let’s runaway together. Just you and me. I haven’t even met you yet but I’m ready. Let’s go.

Hmmmmm.  That’s an enticing thought. Where would you like to go? Fantasize. If only in your mind, or beneath the soft weight of your comforter, dream, it’s healthy.

My spirit needs recharging, that’s for sure. Just the other night I said to Steve, “let’s go away for the night, let’s head to the mountains.” Past experience has taught me that  stepping away every so often is the best boost to my emotional and spiritual health.  It’s like meditation ; when I’m outside of my daily grind, I take time to slow my pacing, breathe deeper, and gain perspective.

Times are tight, and it’s hard to break away, I know.  Still, I’m a big advocate for physically shaking life up every few months, just like applying that fresh coat of paint I blogged about in my first entry. You don’t really need to hop on a plane or train – although the idea of doing so is sometimes enough of a release. Steve and I have a running joke that when the going gets rough we’ll meet one another aboard the flight to Italy.  He’ll text me, “hurry, the plane is leaving in a half hour.” Someday…

How about starting with small ideas? A restorative hike; dinner out with your partner or a special friend; a visit to that museum you can’t ever seem to make time for; or, a movie (my spirit was higher after armchair traveling with Mamma Mia.)

Maybe your ideal retreat is secluding yourself at home?

The point is to make time for yourself amidst the fullness of life. I’m a better wife, mother, daughter, friend, and writer when I do.

I leave you with ripe food for thought by Maya Angelou, whom I came to know through my experiences at UNICEF.

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

 A few days ago while at work, a friendly young man came to set up a printer.  This was James’ second visit.  The previous afternoon he analyzed the problem: “the thing’s busted,” he tells me, his arms crossing his chest in apology.  Eager to please, James actually installed the new printer without my knowing it.  He strode into the conference room where I sat helping a colleague fold campaign pamphlets for a large mailing. “You’re good to go Nancy,” he announces with puckish pride.

Because the simplest technology intimidates me, I decided to head back to my office with James to test the printer myself.  Sure enough, it stalled.  As he began to tinker with the settings, I felt I should make polite conversation. “Where are you from?” I asked, curious about his accent. 

“Scotland,” he answers. I tried to picture him in a plaid kilt but couldn’t.

A relative newcomer to Denver, I wanted to know what brought him here.  “A woman,” he says heavily, his eyes darting down at the floor.  Obviously, James had “a story” and he told it to me quickly.  “My family disowned me because I left our small village of Ardrossan.  It’s a cardinal sin to leave a place like that but I wanted more. I met a woman here in the U.S. and we were married for eight years before she dumped me on my 40^th birthday.”

Gulp!

 “Are you sure your parents have disowned you?” I asked in a soft voice. It seemed incredulous to me.

“I called my mum to tell her we separated and she said, I told you so.”

Hmmm.  Not your everyday corporate chatter.

I looked at James and felt a rush of sorrow for this young man who left his family and homeland to make a new life here in Colorado.  Things didn’t work according to his plan (it happens, we all know), so he now stands alone. I cannot begin to understand parents turning their backs on children who want to claim a different life.  What if my parents shunned me after I left the East Coast for Denver three years ago? The answer would unleash a whole lot of “I wouldn’t have’s”…starting with I wouldn’t have met my husband and found a life partner whom I love and adore and who loves and adores me and my young children. I can’t imagine not living near these gorgeous mountains any easier than I can visualize staying stuck in New York, which is the way it felt.

Here’s what I really think: with all the random, awful things that can and will crop up in life, why allow space for misunderstandings to divide those that we love?  Every family has its darkness and no doubt, some situations shouldn’t be trespassed upon. But for the most part, I think choosing differently frees us.

“James, you be the big one here,” I encouraged him in motherly fashion.  “Life is too short to waste living regretfully.”

He’s thinking about making a surprise visit to see his family over Christmas. He hasn’t seen them in 10 years.   “If my mum sees me in person, she’ll have a harder time turning me away,” says James.

I hope he makes the trip.

Regardless, I’m glad he gave me his direct line for technical support. I’ll need it.