"Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." —Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Show. Don't Tell.
It's a well-worn chestnut in many an art form and I've tried my hand at a few. (Writing, Theatre, years huddled over the keys of my Mother's hi-shine baby grand, and most recently the de-lovely Ukulele.)
And still, I've yet to learn this delicate means of communication. To paint the picture. Rather than plot out the detailed diagram. And trust the viewer to gather the essence gathered there.
To bring what's needed to the conversation and not the whole auxiliary cart of knick-knacks to boot.
To Do and not just bullsh*t about the Doing.
To Show up and get your hands a little bit dirty.
To Be In It.
Rather than just point an inert finger in the general direction of the Thing you Seek.
And it's so much messier... and humbler...and even tedious this way sometimes..
"I love you, Mama."
She has taken on my own inherited, familial habit of tossing these words about like so much verbal confetti throughout the day.
While driving to school or camp, from the backseat of the car:: I LOVE YOU.
Right after waking, or just before sleep:: I LOVE YOU.
When attempting to squeeze another 5 minutes worth of shows or awake-time or play or one of the strawberry popsicles hidden in the freezer::: I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.
And so we've entered into this delicate dialogue, she and I. The words that end up coming out next - as much for my own education as for her own miniature heart.
"What are some ways we can show our Love, baby?"
And she repeats the refrain.
Then rattles off a few of her favorite (read: Easy) ways to show Love in our world.
Cuddles are good.
Flushing the potty when we've done a number 2.
And, after a silence, the trickier stuff begins to get examined next.
Things like, "I'm sorry."
Listening. And then Responding, too.
Picking up the toys.
Feeling the Anger but not letting it take Control.
Saying Yes when instead we've got two feet tethered deep inside the box of NO.
In ways that feel both easy and damn hard.
In the Active NOW and not the whim of passive past or mythic future.
SHOW don't Tell.
And together, we are learning, step-by-stumbling-footfall.
And so this Summer unwittingly unfolds into one of Gracious Doing. & Un-Doing.
Rather than the wait till mid-August or early September as the water cools and the whisper of sunshine dips into remembrance::: "Oh yeah. The River. Why didn't we go there more???"
Instead, we hop into the camper van and, for the first 12 days of the season, soak up as much sunlight, soggy-bottomed, gypsy time as we can handle.
And, upon returning home, plan 6 adventures more.
Periods of time set aside for healing and rejuvenation. Juicing and salads and berries plucked straight from the yard.
Along with s'mores and margaritas, too.
Laying out the mat a little bit each day. Even if all that happens there is a little pre-school-style rolling around and some deep belly breathing.
Keeping the journal and jar of lemon water and the wisdom deck/tarot cards, and the palo santo, and the recipe for a kick-#ss herbal sun tea (and whatever other minor witchery we can uncover) - close at hand. So that the moments that spring up inside this tiny pocket of days - both the magic & the mundane, the silly & the sublime - can be peppered with a tiny dose of Sweet & SaCrEd.
Finding tiny ways each day to let the Light - in all its' current AbundanCe - Come IN.
And then actively - steadily - each day - finding ways to extend it Back OuT.
May you continue down the path.
May your steps be joyous and Light.
Steady and dovetailing.
Guided all the Way.
I wish you happy trails & holy travails as well.