While
I was in Lancaster with Calvin last weekend, I took notes.
Of course she
did!
You’re probably saying. And you might be
inclined to ask, Why?
My
answer is that it is my way. It is the
practice of a deep thinker, of a writer, to note what’s around her in hopes of
it somehow weaving together on the page to form some kind of story that is something. A story that really tells, really shows.
One
of the most important notes I took on this trip was about the importance of breaking routine and
providing experiences outside the norm for Angus and I as individuals and
together as a couple and family. It was really fitting when this thought came
to me as I navigated the country roads of my childhood because the theme of our
past few weeks has been one riddled with stress and anxiety, a battle for inner
balance. We have fallen into a sort of "grind,” a place I vowed a long time ago I would try to avoid. Angus and I have had many
discussions about how our lives have changed since having children. We have been trying to renegotiate a life that is adventurous while still managing to be stable and predictable for the kids; we have been working hard to create something that fulfills everyone. We've shared about what experiences we want to have, and while the talk has been
great, there’s only so much I can talk about without doing. The trip I took with Calvin was one of the
first steps in our plan to “do,” and while I’m not saying traveling to Eastern
PA/Amish country is an outrageous adventure, it did something to jolt me
out of my funk and shed light on the fact that anything (well, almost anything)
is possible. I loved the entire,
sometimes stressful, process of airport travel and revisiting special places of
my past with a 4-year-old’s constant commentary. It was simple stuff, but it was
empowering. It created a place inside me
that felt completely alive and not the least bit like
going-through-the-motions. In moving
away from our routine, I grew closer to an awake state of being. Awake to my surroundings, to each moment, to
my hopes and dreams.
Things
I once considered unrealistic or ideas to save for later are starting to look possible,
and my excitement has grown tremendously. Some of the experiences on my own list, I’ve
spent years talking about but have never scheduled. Now, I am taking action, and have booked a
weekend yoga retreat, signed up for a stand-up paddle board lesson, and bought a
kit to learn how to create body henna.
The experiences on Angus’s list, one as simple as making more time for
friends, are beginning to take shape, and I notice a visible difference in his
mood when he comes home from these outings.
He is connecting in ways outside of work and our family, which is so
important and often gets lost in the shuffle of life. Some of the experiences we want for our
family seem crazy to tackle with two kids under five. We’ve been talked to about the horrors of
camping and warned about taking toddlers to Europe. But we are feeling optimistic and are in the
mode of figuring out what we want to do and how to make it happen. If it’s a time issue, we will wait. If it’s a money issue, we will save. But the issues aren’t stopping us from making
plans, and even that feels more like true living than the grind.
It
is amazing what a small break in the routine can make us realize about our
lives and what experiences we want to provide for our families and ourselves. Aside from the new understandings about what
we want, what I love most about breaking the routine is that once you come back
to it, it feels better. It feels
right. Upon returning, I felt completely
different – more present and open to receiving the pleasure of the day-to-day
with two kids. (OK, so it didn't last long, but I actually found Kyle's ear-piercing shrieks cute.) Overall, I found that seeking a
little something different helped me appreciate the same.
The
notes I take aren’t earth-shattering and may seem like little bits of insanity
to another’s eye, but they matter. They
are little pieces of me, a way to speak the whole truth, to make observations,
to document my journey. They are notes
about driving in storms and how the lightening flashed capturing a photograph of white knuckles and wheels on water. They are summaries of weird recurring dreams where I lose someone or
something and beg for its return. They
are jottings of travel bits like “download more to iPad” and “get a new car
seat roller – one that doesn’t bruise my leg.”
They are notes about my soul’s connection to the country, to the endless
rows of corn, towering trees, and open land.
They are documentations of Calvin’s new phrases like, “What are you
laughing about, ladies?” Woven together
they are the song of an experience, a little gem of a ditty that just might
change a life.
Break the
routine – you will love that you did.
