Word of the year 2019

My word of the year is now.

There was no question for me about what this year’s word would be after the fall we had.  Let me explain.  I think I’ve written pretty exhaustively about how eventful 2017 was.  I always insist on that word (vs. the “terrible” that others use) because the truth is a lot of really good things happened in 2017 too.  Grace and Whit both went to new schools that they love (and Grace moved out of the house to go to boarding school).  Matt and I both got new jobs (and mine was with a company that I helped found, which was stressful but more than anything, extremely, extremely joyful).  Both of our fathers (and both of Grace and Whit’s grandfathers) died 2 months and 3 days apart.  I described our fall as an earthquake.

Eventful.  My word for 2018 was simple, because I hoped to focus on what was right in front of me.  If 2017 taught me anything, it’s that that mattered more than anything else.

2018 started off quiet.  But beginning in September I began a three month odyssey of health tests, procedures, and uncertainty.

I am okay.

But there was a lot of waiting for results last fall, there were several procedures of varying discomfort and invasiveness, and there were a lot of questions, and it was really not at all fun.

I was in shock at first, not least because I didn’t feel I had yet formally integrated all the events and lessons of 2017.  Again?  More stuff? (and yes, I realize how entitled and bratty this sounds). The shock wore off and I was flat-out panicked.  My overwhelming anxiety, not helped at all by continued sorrow and mourning, made this fall particularly un-fun at my house, I’m sure of that (sorry, Whit and Matt).

The clouds parted mostly by the time Grace and Whit came home, and I’m certain that contributed to my sense of this year’s holiday season as particularly sweet. I spent the past three weeks letting the impact of last fall run over me, adjusting to what feels like newly fragile and shaky terrain under my feet.  I have never been so exhausted. In some ways I feel like I’ve been in fight or flight mode for 18 months.

I do believe in that Pema Chodron quote that “nothing ever goes away until it has taught you what you need to know,” or the general adage that the universe will keep giving you practice in what you need to learn.  By both counts, there’s a lesson I clearly need to keep learning.

I’m not in control here, and the only thing I know I have is now.

Now.  Be here now.  Now.  All I have for sure.  All any of us has for sure.  Today, these people around me, this blue sky, this wealth of emotion, these books, this difficulty, this joy.

Now.