We Make Time For What We Want To Make Time For

I intended to go to yoga last night, but then felt guilty about not putting the kids to bed.

As a result, I didn’t even meditate. I didn’t wake up early enough this morning to get the work done that I needed to get done. It’s raining outside. And the day has started like that, gray and grainy.

It’s been a good week. It’s always a good week. There is truly no good nor bad in the world, only our perspectives, which can change with the weather. Seriously. On a sunny day, you’re happy but on a cloudy day you feel glum – what is that about? Clouds are not inherently depressing. In fact, they can be more fascinating to watch than an empty blue sky.

First day of June. My birthday month. Last year’s birthday met with fanfare: a new marriage, a new decade, the middle of my life, the prime of my life. This year is simply one year further on the line. I completed my 40 things and then some. I changed my outlook on life. My business has grown. The kids are well.

Yesterday, Nicklas Lidstrom announced his retirement. His wife cried. They are moving back to Sweden. Their town is known for a large wooden horse. That’s quite a thing to be known for.

It’s funny that a hockey player retires in spring-summer, when his game is all winter. Is that a metaphor?

I had lunch with my father this week after a month of no-lunches. Usually, we have lunch every week and he’s 5-10 minutes late. This time he was 10 minutes early. My heart melted at the thought that he was eager to see me. This is why I live close to family.

My grandmother is back in a rehab facility, after breaking three ribs. It sucks to grow old and grow frail. I’d rather grow old actively and gallantly and simply die in my sleep one day late in life, never knowing the difference, like my Aunt Rose. This many years later, I remember her huge tortoise shell sunglasses and big sun hat at my bat mitzvah. The year was 1984.

My son says the sun will expire in 5 billion years. “What will we do?” I said in mock astonishment. “We’ll all be dead by then,” he said, and he’s only 6.

Seriously. Where will our consciousness be by then? If you think we only life one lifetime, that’s a pretty small drop in the bucket. I have to believe there are many lives and many planes of consciousness.

I love the pitter-patter of the rain. It’s a balm outside the bedroom window. On Monday, I will be married a year to the most wonderful man on the planet. Isn’t it great that we get second chances? There are no dead-ends.

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