Month: September 2019

There is a season-turn, turn, turn…And a time to every purpose under Heaven.”

Such great lyrics etched in my mind from the 60’s rock band, The Byrds. If you are too young to remember this classic oldie, it’s basically a beautifully harmonized ballad reminding us that everything has to change. I guess I’m one of those souls that has a hard time remembering that fact. I like predictability and control. But as I was walking my sweet dog this am, thankful for that extra layer I threw on as I bolted out the door and getting overtaken by the crisp smell of autumn leaves, this song just popped into my head. I felt a bizarre mixture of melancholy and hope.  Isn’t it so weird how certain smells and songs can transport us instantaneously back to our childhood, sending us on a time-travel adventure before we even know what hits us?

As a little girl on the farm, the autumn changes brought with them both feelings of sadness and excitement. I guess it’s arrival meant an end to summer and the beginning of a new school year. Saying good bye to my summertime freedom but looking forward with trepidation and excitement to another chapter in my life. One step closer to being my own boss…yes…to being grown up!

I always longed to be a grown-up. I used to hike past the rows of corn to a little stretch of trees behind our house. It was there that, every fall, I would rake the fallen leaves into rows. The rows became walls. The walls became my little imaginary house. The house became my solace. Within these walls, I did what I wanted. No one was in charge of me but me. And although I did have the occasional unruly visitor, either my dog Pete or some frenetic, cracked-out squirrel, for the most part, it was my space. The space that allowed me to imagine what it would be like to be a grown-up. I wouldn’t have to answer to anyone. I could eat what I wanted, when I wanted. I could design my day with disregard to others. It would be glorious to be grown up!

Then, I realized I had to actually go to school if I wanted to be a grown-up. Then, I realized I had to get good grades to become a grown-up doctor. Then, I realized I had to study in order to get those good grades to be that grown-up doctor. Then, I realized I needed a job to buy grown-up stuff and pay grown-up bills. Then, I realized I needed to create my own grown-up happiness in order to attract my grown-up soulmate so we could create our own grown-up family. Then, I realized the gravity of knowing that as a grown-up parent, I had the safety and well-being of another’s life in my hands.  Then, I realized that being grown-up meant accepting the randomness of life and disease and still finding joy in the midst of evil.

Then, I realized…somewhere along this path to being grown up, I longed to be a child again. To be able to still be astonished at the complexity of a bird’s song or to crave the feeling of the cool grass under my bare feet. To not be paralyzed by fear of embarrassment or failure. To not only be able to realize the joy all around me but to actually seek it out, like I did as a little girl. Or better yet, create my own joy.

So, as I embrace the changing of another season and smell the anticipation in the autumn air, I long to be a child again. Just as I embraced that random memory of melancholy and hope, triggered by no less than a simple waft that I chose to acknowledge, so shall I remind myself that I never have lose the child within me. She’s there behind that cloak of responsibility I put on everyday.  All I need to do is conjure her up by vowing to never stop asking questions, never stop learning, never stop seeing what’s right in front of me, never stop marveling at the enormity of life and never stop celebrating.

So, back to those iconic lyrics…

” A time to gain, a time to lose. A time to mend, a time to sew. A time for love, a time for hate. A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late!”

 

 

 

This title really makes no sense, other than the fact that I want to write about COFFEE. Plus, I needed a catchy title that might even lure some young Padawans into my blog-fold. Lately, I am obsessed with java. I love it’s smell. I wake up craving it. I go to bed excited for my morning cup-o-Joe. I think I’m addicted to this intoxicating drug.

I didn’t start drinking coffee until I was 54 years old. I always loved the smell but hated the taste. So bitter and vile. In med school, I would go study in coffee houses just to smell the aroma. I loved the feeling of being in a coffee house. What is it about stepping into a coffee house that suddenly transforms you into this calm, cerebral, evolved human? I feel like George Jetson, finally escaping that fast paced treadmill, screaming, “Jane, stop this crazy thing!” (ref. a 1960’s futuristic cartoon, for you young padawans) Even opening the door fills me with anticipation that I am giving myself a gift. I’m giving myself permission to slow down and savor. In this insanely fast paced demanding world, there still exists a place where you can just sit and think, sit and stare, sit and people watch, sit and talk, or just sit and bond with your Mac…it’s a heavenly safe haven to just…be.

Whether you are savoring that first morning sip ( insert : “tea” here for you Dark Siders) or stepping into that zen-like coffee shop, it all heralds the beginning of a new day. A fresh start. A “ do-over”. What if, with every morning sip, one thing in my life could change. What would it be? What would be your do-over?  A regret, a goal never met, a path never followed? Isn’t there just something about caffeine that gives you a waft of introspection. From your nose to your olfactory bulbs to your brain, it’s instant chemical warfare that entices you to think…What if?

Would I banish my M.S.? Would I stop self-shaming? Would I start treating my body better? Would I feed my soul more? Would I look outward more often? Would I hug a bit longer? Would I make better eye contact and listen more intently? Would I have still become a doctor? Would I have taken the road less traveled? Would I have heeded my parent’s sage advice? If I were granted a do-over, what would it be?

Every day, we make decisions that forge our paths. Some are wrong for us and right for those around us. Some are right for us and horribly wrong for those around us. And hopefully, we learn from our mistakes. Maybe that’s the key to evolving into a better self. Not repeating our same patterns, our mistakes or missteps.  In fact, perhaps that’s our chance for a do-over. Luckily, life is full of things we can change, despite the overflowing bucket full of things we can never change. So maybe that’s the wisdom I get from my morning “buzz”. Reflecting on my past but savoring the present. Less regret and more intent.

But, until I wake up, my do-over is going to be my second cup…Aaaaaa yes…Carpe diem!