7PM on a Thursday. I sit down and take what feels like the first breath of the day. Roland skipped his 2-4 today. He’s got a runny nose and couldn’t fall asleep. This couch has been pulled away from the wall so I could lay towels on the floor where he spilled his apple juice between the cushions, and the puppy’s new bed is squashed between it and the chaise lounge, which is covered in open mail. Crayons and colorfully used sketch paper line the floor, except for where the puppy’s bed is. My mind feels like the room looks.
The bed’s cardboard box is still sitting by the door beside an Amazon package that I had just enough time to open: a few things for the house, gifts I didn’t know she’d ordered for me. I haven’t yet found a moment to unpack them or tidy up, until now, as the boy and pup are down, but I first must insist to myself on taking this breath. I am high strung, I admit- I don’t quite have the hang of this thing yet. (Fatherhood.) I have been doing my best to hit the dots that matter most, and I know I’m missing some as a result of my stress. Furthermore, I’m woeful when I think of the dots which will remain invisible for years to come. I take solace in knowing that it’s hard because I care. I am an active influence in my son’s life. Instead of spending my spare time on work that presses my mind, I often choose to be with my family. Unfinished projects create anxiety, but I am far more productive by being here than I would be if I were anywhere else. This is my inner monologue when I finally catch my breath.
Don’t worry about the mess. I’ve got it, she would say. You are tired. Go to bed. And that is her love. And that is why before I go to bed I will get up and clean this place, so that she will come home to the warm atmosphere she deserves, and it will communicate to her my love in a language she speaks fluently. That is, just as soon as I jot down some of these raving thoughts.
Have you ever caught yourself cursing at the wind? I feel angry with myself for ever being frustrated during such a wonderful, temporary time. What is there to be stressed about? I have such limited opportunity compared to any other time in my life to attempt a manifestation of some vision, to try to harness an idea I believe to be of supreme importance. I become wrapped up in what I feel needs to be done, consumed by tasks I’ve assigned myself, believing that my work is more important than being calm and present for my son and my family. I’m wrong, and this increases tension. I sit outside by the fire and try to read, but the breeze keeps blowing the pages over. I swear loudly.
So now I take a breath. I think about the future. I think about identity. I think about society and the world in which my son will grow up. I’ve always wanted ambitiously to make the world a better place to live. Never more strongly have I yearned to lead by example. I am becoming the role model whom I need to be; of this I grow more confident each day, and as I take this breath I reflect on that this strength is built inside me unknowingly when the water is boiling and the baby is crying and the puppy’s up to his neck in the trash bin.
What did I just step in?
Every moment of frustration is an invaluable part of the struggle that will ultimately become our reward. As I breathe, I focus my attention on sentiments that bring me back to my center. This is exactly where I want to be. All of the difficulties are inextricably connected to the greater good. Blessed now with this invaluable quiet I attempt to look at my life objectively and I see its perfection. I start to scold myself for being so blind as to get worked up over the most minor of troubles. Then I remember it isn’t until there is silence that we can heal, and recall that which we truly desire. And silence has been in short supply recently, perhaps for all of us. I’ve learned that for me, to sit for just a moment, to record a few thoughts will help me attune to the wonder that is my current situation, unlock the harmony that lives in the chaos, and allow me to summon the energy I need to get up and clean this house, precisely because it is what I want to do.
As if I needed yet another reminder of our good fortune and consequent scenario’s picture perfection, a bundle recently fell into our lap. He’s got white around his nose and his eyes and ears are black. His paws and belly are white, and there’s a line of brown that separates the white hair from the black going from his wrinkled snout down his back to the tip of his tail. A cat would have been an easier choice, but he came to us needing a home, and the reward already outweighs the challenge. We named him Juneau. One ear sticks out and the other sticks up so long as he’s awake, and he follows Roland everywhere curiously and vehemently. It’s his third day here, and timid as he is we know he is coming to feel at home.
I write in the constant midst of desire to understand the human condition, to make sense of the abstract, to organize my mind and more wholly understand myself. Writing helps me utilize the silence so that my thoughts have a fighting chance to come full circle. In the reflection on the page I see that the meaning of life is right here in my home. It takes only a moment of silence to see it, but a moment of silence is essential to appreciating these times with a full heart. It is in this moment of silence that I become able to explain to her that I am happy, that I love all of this, especially the hard parts. It is in the silence that I might discover how to tell her in a way she will believe that she is the most beautifully powerful thing in the cosmos; that the times at which I’m overwhelmed and overheated are nourishing me with strength, emotional intelligence, and patience. In this silence, it becomes ultimately clear that these are the qualities I wish to embody.
So I take this breath, and I think about how much harder things could be. I remind myself that I am doing more good than I know just by being here, and present. I let my heart tell me that this is where I am meant to be, and I breathe out knowing that sometimes just to sit and do nothing is exactly what I need.
9/25/2020