Hit by a 2 x 4 - an epiphany

I had a good realization early this morning, while meditating.  It started yesterday, when I was having a difficult day.  I was walking back from Tribeca, after showing a loft, and I was so exhausted I could barely make it back to my office.  I called a friend and he told me his back was killing him and as we were talking, I passed a bed store.  I said, "Oh, I think I'm going inside this bed store and lie down on a really comfortable bed."  And he said, "Oh, the Hastens bed store? My friend is the manager there."

It turned out that the Hastens store was next to the other bed store, so I went inside the Hastens store, walked over to a bed and lay down on top of the bed.  I felt like I was being held by the most loving arms.  The saleswoman came over and we started to talk, she was so nice.  Eventually I told her my tale of woe - we had one of these fantastically comfortable beds, got divorced, daughter left, yadayada, my litany of pain.  She was so sweet, she said, "You know, we are having a sweepstakes to give away a bed, probably the one you had - you should enter! I bet you'll win!"  

And then I tried the less expensive bed that I was surely going to win, and then I asked, which is the best bed in the store?

I tried the most expensive bed in the store, I won't even tell you the price - it's insane - okay, $90,000.  I know, it's craaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzy, but someone, like Oprah, surely has this bed.  And honestly, I liked the first one better (that was only $19,000.)  But anyway, the saleswoman said, "Here, let me turn down the lights over the bed and you relax for five minutes."  We continued talking and she told me that her mom lives in Jamaica and she and her sister both live far away and how much her mother misses them.  I got a bit teary, talking about Zoe, and also remembering how important it is for our kids to have their own lives, no matter where they chose to go.  Somehow, the combination of resting and talking and a few tears, totally transformed my day. I was energized and able to go back to the office.

And then this morning, I was meditating and it hit me that 2009, the terrible, worst year of my life, was really in many ways, the best.  It was the year that I lived the Serenity Prayer, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."  Before 2009 I said those words, I tried to believe those words, but after 2009 I started to really live them.

This morning I realized that now it's my responsibility to take each day and make the most of it, often simply by trusting my instincts about what to do.  Sometimes I feel tired, or sad, or afraid, but by the end of every day, I have a feeling of acceptance.  

In my reading today of "When Things Fall Apart," Pema Chodron writes about when she became the director of Gampo Abbey and all her delusions about what a great person she was - the golden girl, etc., were completely shattered.  She eventually learned this lesson, "Love the truth of you on the spot." 

I think that, like me, she appreciated the suffering she did that first year at Gampo Abbey, just as I have appreciated the changes these two years have brought me.  They weren't all easy, but there were definitely many moments of laughter and some amazing gifts.  They literally brought me to my knees, but the growth has been worth it. 

Three quotes

In the past few weeks I've heard three quotes that have resonated with me. The first one came from Michelle Obama, when she was talking about being a mother. "I'm only as happy as my saddest child." It's a line I've heard before, but it really hit home when I read it because I've been trying not to let myself feel as much despair as I usually do when my daughter's life isn't going according to my plan. That's something I've learned in 12 Step meetings, to let go, to know that we all have our own journeys. As much as I wish my daughter was away at college and happy and not living at home (and doing what I believe she should be doing), it is what it is, for now. I think that somewhere between "I'm only as happy as my saddest child" and "Live and let live" is where I find myself. And it's not a particularly comfortable place to be.

And then, strangely, I heard a line on a television show that also resonated with me. I was watching "Brothers and Sisters" - not a very good show, but a good cast. Rob Lowe and Calista Flockhart are trying to adopt a baby and they met with a potential birth mother. Calista felt that the birth mother hadn't really dealt with the idea of giving up her baby. Having experienced many failed attempts at pregnancy herself, Calista was afraid of having her heart broken again if this woman changed her mind. Rob Lowe said something like, "If you can't handle having your heart broken, you're not ready to be a parent." I never read that line in "What to Expect When You're Expecting."

And then a few days ago, in the New York Times, there was an article by Jane Brody entitled, "When Families Take Care of Their Own." Rosalynn Carter, the former first lady, was quoted.
"There are only four kinds of people in the world - those who have been caregivers, those who are currently caregivers, those who will be caregivers and those who will need caregivers."

I'm sorry that these are not more uplifting quotes like "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." I guess I could leave you with the serenity prayer, which is one of my favorites:

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference."

And one more. Psalm 4 from A Book of Psalms, translated and adapted from Hebrew, by Stephen Mitchell.

Even in the midst of great pain, Lord,
I praise you for that which is.
I will not refuse this grief
or close myself to this anguish.
Let shallow men pray for ease:
"Comfort us; shield us from sorrow."
I pray for whatever you send me,
and I ask to receive it as your gift.
You have put a joy in my heart
greater than all the world's riches.
I lie down trusting the darkness,
for I know that even now you are here.