i was in line at the pharmacy when they opened to fetch his prescriptions. he told me he didn’t need them, but i called him anyway to ask if he was sure he didn’t want me to just bring the bag with me. “no,” he said, “i’ve got enough.”
then the snow came.
and came.
and came.
and came some more.
and first thing you know, he’s at the bottom of his pillbox. it’s okay now. they left this afternoon, headed home . . . and to the bag with another month’s worth of meds inside.*
it’s my nature to think about things like this. i was, after all, the only fourth grader to build and stock the family bomb shelter. so when did i start second-guessing myself? when did i begin to think that planning ahead – thinking about things like having extra supplies of food and medicines on hand – is a fine display of negativity? when did i become embarrassed enough about the way i am to grow silent and default to others?
when i listen to my self and act as one with my intuition without reservation, without explanation, without apology, those are my moments of pure, unadulterated, ordinary joy.
* (i stayed behind cause let’s face it: when they slide off down the side of the mountain, somebody’s got to be here to inherit everything.)
~~~
this post is my response to today’s reverb10 prompt by brene brown: Ordinary joy. Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?
It’s your big heart and your caregiver instincts. And so should it be a source of joy and strength when we ally with our deepest urgings.
You go, girl.
Your instincts will always lead you right.
you’re right, karen. my instincts and intuition will never steer me wrong. ijust need to pledge allegiance to it.
So funny… and so true! It’s a tough job but someone’s got to think of everything. Thank God there is you and me in the world Jeanne… that’s all I can say 😉
Great post!
you make me smile, my new friend. yes. thank god the world has you and me. (and may they have us for a long, long time to come.)
Without the planners and prepared people, the rest of us would die, horrible deaths or at least be deluged by shaken fists and dirty looks by those who used their foresight and intelligence.
Wonderful post, and the bit about staying behind made me smile. Smiling is a good thing.
thanks, mark. glad you caught the nod to humor.
Just lovely.
thanks, cali.
I simply adore how your posts start with a story…setting a scene…describing the lay of the land. Each one is like the opening paragraph of a novel I want to read.
well, this is a fine compliment – especially coming from such a wicked good writer. thank you.
well, this is a fine compliment – especially coming from such a wicked good writer. thank you.
Isn’t it funny how the voice inside that cries and yells out and is so clear to us is so blurry to others? Sometimes I think that growing up is a process of stripping intuition away, and growing older (and wiser) is the process of learning how to tune into it again, that fuzzy a.m. radio station that no one else can hear.
So glad you wrote this beautiful post about listening to yourself. It reminds me to listen to myself in the new year.
it is like a radio station, isn’t it, noel? what say we both add this to our list for 2011?
YES!!! I get the feeling that it will save me a lot of heartache and anxiety! LOL 🙂 Thanks again for this post. It made my heart happy.
Lovely! It is difficult to balance thinking ahead and allowing for spontaneity. But so worth it!
you’re right: it’s a balance. planning ahead has its place, and so does spontaneity. we need both to keep life interesting.
Yes, I love it when life reinforces the power and grace of our intuition. Thanks for writing about this so beautifully!