Thursday, January 2, 2014

Stirred, Not Shaken

2013 was the year we were going to shake things up. A new job for hub's meant a 400 mile move for the family complete with a new lifestyle, new neighborhood, new school, new bank, new hairstylist, new gym, and…no. We did not move, despite the fact I packed boxes, investigated schools, researched rentals—we almost signed a lease on one (cancelled just two hours before we were to meet Landlord and sign off on paperwork)—and negotiated (okay, pleaded) to get youngest on to a sports team, and lo and behold, due to a series of events beyond our control, we slide into 2014 in the exact same place we started 2013. Oh, the irony.

And that is life.

You can plan, postulate, prophesize, and pray, but if it's not time, it's not time. God/the Universe/Fate/Murphy's Law, whatever you want to call the conductor of the Big Picture has a plan, and He/She does not always consult you, or even care about what you think you want or believe you should have.

I wanted long blonde hair when I was a kid. I got short, fine mousey-brown hair that my friends delighted in pulling out in tufts until puberty strengthened the strands—and me—enough to require effort (and stealth) to make a game of it. As it was not a fun game—someone (me) always got hurt—my tormentors finally lost interest (thank Dog). In my late teens, I decided one day I would own a red Ferrari. Not one of the ten-plus vehicles I've owned over the, um, many years since, was, or is, red. Or a Ferrari. Not that I let that stop me from driving like Tom Selleck on Magnum P.I. (yes, in ultra-short jean cut offs and a tank-top, with a big smile and mustache. Not). Anyway, if I have learned anything from all of this—okay, in the last six months—control is like smoke.

It's an amorphous by-product of energy and impossible to harness. You can "see" it, but you can't get a firm grip on it. You can try to grab hold, but you look like an idiot waving your arms and snapping your hands open and closed. At least that's how I feel I looked.

Microsoft Clip Art
Like a child trying to catch snowflakes, I waved my arms, snapped my hands, and spun circles in a vain attempt to capture the intangible. I packed and unpacked summer clothes and shoes, Christmas dishes/ornaments and decorations. Twice. Just boxed them up for the third time, and though it is my fondest wish that the next time I peel off the packing tape it's in our new home in our new location, I no longer expect it.

2014 is the year of Acceptance. Like I do when I float the river, I will let the current carry me, but keep my wits about me to direct and redirect as necessary to avoid rocks and deadheads; otherwise, I plan to relax, focus on things within my power (like writing, education, fitness, prepping house and listing at market value, and spending quality time with family and friends), and if I end up stirring a back eddy for another six months—or year—I will smile and imagine Daniel Craig with a martini and Tom Selleck shirtless in his jean cut-offs turning lazy circles on inflatable-loungers right alongside me.

Deborah

Luck affects everything. Let your hook be always cast. In the stream where you least expect it, there will be a fish. ~Ovid

 


 

3 comments:

Lara Lacombe said...

Learning to accept that I really don't control anything (despite my illusions) was one of the most difficult life lessons for me. I'm sorry 2013 didn't work out like you'd planned, but I hope that 2014 rewards you for your patience and determination!

Deborah said...

Thanks Lara! 2013 did not turn out as planned; it turned out better. One child graduates this year, the other wants to move to play his sport. Our mortgage is due for renewal, so no penalty. And hubs is feeling more squared-away in his job, so he'll be able to help me in helping kids adjust to move, when it happens. It's all good. We are blessed, as I hope are you. How goes your real-estate project?

Deborah said...
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