Heaven In Our Hands
Updated: Mar 14
Friday the thirteenth. The Grateful Dead's "Go To Heaven" album spins in the other room. Dayna glides from the office through the kitchen, past me toward the music.
The record ends, Roland finishes his apple pieces, the banana and toast long since devoured. Turns out the record isn't quite over, another song starts and comes through the doorway.
I pick up a notepad to jot a shopping list and start writing. I put the date, and my thoughts follow in full sentences. Seems a timestamp is due. I stand on the cork floor naked and comfortable in my vulnerability. We are living in a dream-state. All action has been paused as we bask in the ambience, trying to comprehend our place and prepare ourselves for the terrible-twos through adolescence. Emotion is everywhere. Remember to give thanks and time to good habits. Not sure where to, and no rush, but we are headed somewhere. I can feel it.
Toothpicks, peanut butter, soy sauce.
I feel a feeling of having arrived. I fall deeper in love every single day. She and I exchange a glance here and there and we know what the other is thinking: we've got heaven in our hands. Our sun, our family, our good fortune, all of this is simply too beautiful to put into words, though it won't stop the best of us from trying.
We are witnessing extremes in many directions. As he wakes up to the world, he resists his sleep. Needless to say, this is brand new for all of us. Never before have I needed to be so good, because I am undoubtedly and inevitably a role model now. Never before has either of us felt so much pressure just to keep up with the little things, and the not-so-little, that previously have been allowed to pile up. Not being able to find a clean shirt is a more pressing matter than it once was.
The fear we experience, the lack of sleep and resulting disorientation, the negative collisions of energy which lead to learning and experiences of growth, encompass both sides of a single coin that will never be tarnished beyond cleaning and can never be destroyed. Love fuels this machine, and the gems we are uncovering are invaluable treasures endlessly deep and infinitely wide, big and beautiful enough to live inside.
I write to clear my mind. To make sense of what does not. I remember that any struggle is only as heavy as the importance of the goal and vision that is dreamt. The fact is, it matters, and that's why you feel it. Hot or cold, frustration suffered on a path that is good can be eased away. I practice breathing and my healthy habit. We are together, and together we will explore this world. I am no different than my one-year-old son, save my experience. I've learned some things, and those of which that are true remind me I know nothing at all.
I will learn... to keep my head, to recognize- we are the influence now. I search for inspiration, endless love to quell the sickness of anger that strangely lingers with no clear purpose, fed and nourished by lack of organization. I am learning to embrace all things, my joy and anger and love and frustration- because it is all things together that allow us to experience the feelings that make life worth living.
His little purple ball bounces, lights up red and blue, and rolls across the floor. We are at home, in the sun-room. Though it is raining, it's still the sun-room. Mama gets ready for work. Roland says "Bah" and looks past me into the rain, basketball in his hands. His little mouth is crowded by his chubby cheeks as he makes his first attempts to talk. It won't be long before he'll no longer have use for his signature slap-n-scoot that slides him so quickly across the floor, surprising us after a nap or at eleven o'clock at night. Time is essential to learn and to grow, I think as he stands up using the leg of my chair. Just like Roland, we are learning. We cannot fear the now, because time is a part of right now... Right now is being affected by time, and will continue to be. Nothing is permanent. Our perspective of things changes every moment. We should be able to remember this in times of turmoil. We will.