I woke up really early this morning, unable to go back to sleep. Having slept like a rock all of my life (through alarm clocks, angry siblings and parents, etc.), I actually appreciate the ability to rise without much hassle (definitely thanks to having kids, I’m sure). These mornings, where I am awoken by something other than a kid, are rare and precious. I made a little coffee, and watched the sun emerge from behind the houses and trees across the street. So peaceful.
I daydreamed for a bit. I’ve been given an opportunity to get paid doing something that I love, doing something that could be really great. I would go ahead and call it a "job", but it really seems like more than that. Since being offered this job, I’ve gone between feeling excited and confident, to nervous and doubtful. There’s a lot of potential here, and a lot of room for error. But, regardless of what happens with this (which I will give more details to soon, I promise!), it’s got me feeling grateful on this quiet morning. I’m grateful for the people who have such confidence in my abilities. I’m grateful for Jeff, who, when I asked him if he thought I could do this job said "Totally." without flinching. I’m grateful for all of those around me who have given me their blessings.
How often do we plague ourselves with undeserved doubt? How often do we hold ourselves back because of fear? Well, the longer I live, the more I see that this is our one wild and precious life. I won’t squander it on fear or doubt. I won’t be paralyzed, I’ll be challenged and invigorated. There’s so much I’m scared of in this life, but I’m seeing that part of the deal with making it great is pushing through that fear and realizing all the good that you can find and offer in the process. I’m sure this will be a lesson I have to learn over and over.
I thought I’d repost this poem. I don’t think I could ever read this too much.
The Summer Day
by Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?