Monday – Funday

I’m back!! As promised, Mommy always comes back. I missed you all. I definitely missed writing my blog, but I learned something important by not writing at all, on this particular trip. For a true “getaway”, you must escape all of your everyday life – even the good stuff. By really experiencing life completely out of your element, it makes it really easy to sort out what is important to you. The people/places/stuff that you miss the most about home, are what’s really important to you. These are your priorities. These are the vital things that make your life hum to your own unique inner rhythms. You also get clear about the other stuff in your routines, that aren’t so important, and you realize things that might need to be changed or finessed, in order to live a life which is more authentic and contenting to you.

It is also surprisingly shocking to me, every. single. time. after vacation, just how much needs to be done when you get home. I have piles of mail to sort, piles of laundry to do, piles of souvenirs to find places for, piles of groceries to buy, piles of emails to go through and unusual surprises to deal with, like the fact that my web server for this blog, must have had an entire major update while I was gone, and I had to watch a tutorial and go through security measures more stringent than the ones on my bank accounts, in order to load this precious space back up on my computer. Welcome back. Ugh.

I saw a shortened version of this beautiful thought, on a pillow in a shop in the beautiful town that we visited. Here is the full version of “I Want to Age Like Sea Glass” by Bernadette Noll:

I want to age like sea glass. Smoothed by tides, not broken. I want the currents of life to toss me around, shake me up and leave me feeling washed clean. I want my hard edges to soften as the years pass—made not weak but supple. I want to ride the waves, go with the flow, feel the impact of the surging tides rolling in and out.

When I am thrown against the shore and caught between the rocks and a hard place, I want to rest there until I can find the strength to do what is next. Not stuck—just waiting, pondering, feeling what it feels like to pause. And when I am ready, I will catch a wave and let it carry me along to the next place that I am supposed to be.

I want to be picked up on occasion by an unsuspected soul and carried along—just for the connection, just for the sake of appreciation and wonder. And with each encounter, new possibilities of collaboration are presented, and new ideas are born.

I want to age like sea glass so that when people see the old woman I’ll become, they’ll embrace all that I am. They’ll marvel at my exquisite nature, hold me gently in their hands and be awed by my well-earned patina. Neither flashy nor dull, just a perfect luster. And they’ll wonder, if just for a second, what it is exactly I am made of and how I got to this very here and now. And we’ll both feel lucky to be in that perfectly right place at that profoundly right time.

I want to age like sea glass. I want to enjoy the journey and let my preciousness be, not in spite of the impacts of life, but because of them.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

2 thoughts on “Monday – Funday”

  1. Welcome back, Kelly. It sounds like you had a true vacation. You’re right, of course, that a true vacation–apart and away from all your everyday doings–will show you what’s important because of what you feel like you’re missing. Then you can come home and, literally and figuratively, empty your luggage. I also love that sea glass essay. It made me think of my sister who was on her way to smoothing out her rough edges, while being very strong. She passed away four years ago Thursday, and I feel like she is remembered both for her preciousness and because of the impacts of her life. Thank you for that memory. 🙂

    1. I’m sorry for your loss, Gail. Your sister sounds like a beautiful person. It feels great to be back. I like the figurative “emptying your luggage” – wonderful visual. Thank you.

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