Did you wake up this morning with old eyes or young eyes? I think I woke up with young eyes today. Eyes of enthusiasm. Appreciation. The total excitement of what's to come.
Last night, about five minutes before I close my eyes to sleep, I have found that if I visualize youth, my next day starts better. What will I see in the morning? I think of my grand-daughters. I visualize the new baby pictures of friends, now becoming grand-parents. I also picture a child jumping in a mud puddle. A toddler picking up blocks, or a little girl skipping rope.
I practice that vision of youth. What will it bring me? Excitement? A new adventure? A pause for rejuvenation?
For years, my life was planned and premeditated. I planned every stage from the age of 12. My list was long. I would go to college. I would have my own cats. I would get married at age 20, I would have two children, one of each gender. I would have a career and make oodles of money. I would travel with my husband. Each year, the list got longer and longer. I admit, there were moments of doubt. That gut-wrenching awareness of "Who am I?" "What am I supposed to do?" "Why am I here?" WHY?
As a young teenager, these frequently happened on the beach at Big River, in my hometown of Mendocino. I had the unbelievable freedom to walk from our house across the Main Street behind the Presbyterian church, down that poison-oaked, blackberry path to Big River. I was unsupervised, no adult was necessary, I knew the way, and there was safety in that community. I would run to the waves of the Pacific ocean that crashed on the beach, pushing water up the Big River.
In my desperation of those "Who am I" moments, I would drop to my knees and request an internal prayer of "Why am I here?" Sometimes there were tears. A sense of loneliness, but not quite. I felt as if I was the only person in the world there on that beach.
I don't think every child has the privilege of such a magnificent backdrop, but I'm sure that all of us go through this form of self-introspection. As I write these words, I knew I was truly blessed...even at the age of 12.
These days, at the waning age of 63, I usually wake up with young eyes....these days. It doesn't seem that it was so long ago that I was waking up with really old eyes. Much in judgment, in self-doubt, worry of what others thought. But I realize that it's not a negative thing to state this, because I was living in history, something I had attached myself to. A history of "known". The comfort zone. The hurdles I jumped over. The sharing of my stories to my children - usually not appreciated by them - with the intention to help them pave their way a little easier. That history kept me attached to what was, rather than what is now.
With the "I did this" and the ever disregarding and disrespectful "been there, did that" cliche, I realize in my mind that whenever I say those words, it leads me down the road of being flippant and cynical. Not allowing the other in the conversation (usually myself) to work it out by just allowing the path I'm being lead down get into view.
So today, when I wake up with old eyes, I set my intention by changing the signal (or vibration) to eyes of Wisdom, Knowledge, and with total appreciation of what was--how it got me to here -- to my NOW young eyes.
Namaste.
Lori
Last night, about five minutes before I close my eyes to sleep, I have found that if I visualize youth, my next day starts better. What will I see in the morning? I think of my grand-daughters. I visualize the new baby pictures of friends, now becoming grand-parents. I also picture a child jumping in a mud puddle. A toddler picking up blocks, or a little girl skipping rope.
I practice that vision of youth. What will it bring me? Excitement? A new adventure? A pause for rejuvenation?
For years, my life was planned and premeditated. I planned every stage from the age of 12. My list was long. I would go to college. I would have my own cats. I would get married at age 20, I would have two children, one of each gender. I would have a career and make oodles of money. I would travel with my husband. Each year, the list got longer and longer. I admit, there were moments of doubt. That gut-wrenching awareness of "Who am I?" "What am I supposed to do?" "Why am I here?" WHY?
As a young teenager, these frequently happened on the beach at Big River, in my hometown of Mendocino. I had the unbelievable freedom to walk from our house across the Main Street behind the Presbyterian church, down that poison-oaked, blackberry path to Big River. I was unsupervised, no adult was necessary, I knew the way, and there was safety in that community. I would run to the waves of the Pacific ocean that crashed on the beach, pushing water up the Big River.
In my desperation of those "Who am I" moments, I would drop to my knees and request an internal prayer of "Why am I here?" Sometimes there were tears. A sense of loneliness, but not quite. I felt as if I was the only person in the world there on that beach.
I don't think every child has the privilege of such a magnificent backdrop, but I'm sure that all of us go through this form of self-introspection. As I write these words, I knew I was truly blessed...even at the age of 12.
These days, at the waning age of 63, I usually wake up with young eyes....these days. It doesn't seem that it was so long ago that I was waking up with really old eyes. Much in judgment, in self-doubt, worry of what others thought. But I realize that it's not a negative thing to state this, because I was living in history, something I had attached myself to. A history of "known". The comfort zone. The hurdles I jumped over. The sharing of my stories to my children - usually not appreciated by them - with the intention to help them pave their way a little easier. That history kept me attached to what was, rather than what is now.
With the "I did this" and the ever disregarding and disrespectful "been there, did that" cliche, I realize in my mind that whenever I say those words, it leads me down the road of being flippant and cynical. Not allowing the other in the conversation (usually myself) to work it out by just allowing the path I'm being lead down get into view.
So today, when I wake up with old eyes, I set my intention by changing the signal (or vibration) to eyes of Wisdom, Knowledge, and with total appreciation of what was--how it got me to here -- to my NOW young eyes.
Namaste.
Lori
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