And so today, after splurging on the purchase of and the time to read her latest issue, I ask myself, "What do I know for sure?"
The answer I find is sad, self-deprecating, funny, and predictable. I know absolutely NOTHING for sure. Like the honesty of politicians, the chances of winning the lottery, and the absolute certainty that it will rain if I wash my car, nothing in my world is written 'in stone.' The only thing I'm sure of is that I'm not sure of anything.
Today may be the day when I start exercising, but the chances are slim. The yearning I have to become more spiritual may take root this month, but I'm already thinking of excuses why I can't go to a meditation meeting this week. The search for spirituality has no specific timeline, right? God, or Buddha, or my higher power surely know I'm trying to work them into my busy schedule. I pencil them in. I erase them. Just like my new year's resolutions. Intentions are sincere but time management is a thief. I've learned in recovery to put down the baseball bat that I beat myself up with but it's hard to lose that bat when it feels like it follows you everywhere you go. I've even thought of buying a real bat and just leaving it at home, but that's been on my to-do list for nearly a year now!
I tape pictures on my walls of the things I'm sure I'd like to add to my bucket list - flowers, animals, significant others, beautiful homes, best selling books. And when I've finished hanging them all, I step back, take a closer look and realize the man is too young, the flowers would require a full time gardener, the home is too expensive, and who would ever want to read MY book. Once again the bat has taken aim at what I know for sure.
My favorite author, Anne Lamott, says, 'There is almost nothing outside of you, that will help you in any kind of lasting way, unless you are waiting for an organ. You can’t buy, achieve or date it. This is the most horrible truth.'
I'm gratefully not waiting on an organ donation, and the love, the garden, and the book deal seem out of reach at this moment. Perhaps my search for surety is aimed in the wrong direction. Maybe Oprah's stash of things she knows for sure, originate from inside herself.
So I will begin with the few things I do know for sure.
Life starts again every morning. No matter how dark the night before, the sun rises and the birds start to sing again. I know the tears will dry if I don't let them flood the space I occupy. I know for sure that regardless of the number of times I write down a task or a dream and don't follow through, life gives me another day and another chance to accomplish and cross it off my list. I know for sure that each painful memory will fade as it is nudged out by an unexpected joy, a new love, another unearned blessing.
I know for sure, that if I reach out, and step out, of my own way, all the things I need to know for sure, I will eventually know for sure.
Until then.....progress, not perfection.
Between the lines,
