Unexpected

"Listening to your heart, finding out who you are, is not simple.  It takes time for the chatter to quiet down.  In the silence of not doing, we begin to know what we feel.  If we listen and hear what is being offered, then anything in life can be our guide.  Listen."

Twenty eight years ago today, I left my mother's womb.  From what I've been told, it seems I didn't want to come out too badly.  I was all backward and upside down, daydreaming or nibbling my little fingernails already or doing god-knows-what in there.  When the labor started, I was a little caught off guard.  Exiting the womb wasn't really in my plans for April 7th, 1985, and anyone who's met me since can tell you I don't like very well doing things that aren't in my plans.  But once labor was underway, those obstetricians were determined to see it through, and lo and behold, 22 hours later, my poor mother delivered.  She tells me that the first words she said when she saw me were, "She's beautiful."  I always doubt the truth of that part of the story, conscience of my own lack of grace in the face of physical pain.  But my mother is an amazing woman.    

 So here I am.  Fast forwarding through 28 years of my life on earth, which, if the earth's 4.5 billion years were somehow condensed into 100, would be only 19.2 seconds of her life.

Anyway.  Here I am.  And as is often the case, I find myself wondering if- hoping?- I'm learning anything.  I don't know why it's so important to me, except that I'm sure it's the point.

What have I learned in the past year?  It's quite simple, but embracing it was not.  I didn't set out to learn it- did I? - but it found me.  And it's nothing like I always feared.  Thank you 27, and 26, and 25, and so on too.  Thank you life until now, and thank you life yet to come.  This year, I embrace surrender.