My real life is this. I am me. 33, working in an ecommerce company, a mother to a lovely happy child, a wife to a person whom I was destined to meet. With vague notions of how interesting I am. Vaguer beliefs that there are deep layers to me.
My interests are undefined. For the now its an intention to get fit. In my future - I will be a dancer, a deep medidator, a shamanistic healer, a globe traveller, a writer. In my past- I was a trainer, a yoga practitioner, a photographer. In my present - I am a worker, mother, wife and me.
There is a line that someone said recently. He said that he realized that to date, he had lived an average life. Time had come for him to challenge that for himself and be the best person he could be.
An average life .......
What makes an average life, what does not. Does making a startup into a business make a life not average, or making a difference to others count, is it fame or developing a new game? is it rearing kids? or finding the peace and chakra bases? Is it speaking on Ted? Or being a president? What is it that will state - NOW, HERE. TODAY - my life is not average?
There is a fine line between contentment with the present and an aspiration for the future. The desire to get something is what fuels the fire. Sans that there no 'pulse' or for me a lack of purpose.
Feeling alive happens when there is a thrill, a sense of discovery, a sense of unadulterated joy.
Off late this happens - in the smaller everyday moments of life. As I dance to a song with my baby, or laugh at her antics, or play peek- a- boo - for these slivers of time - I drop being an observer to my life and jump in.
This happens when I am outdoors, in nature. I cease to be for a while mentally racing to get somewhere. The mountains tell me stillness is all right
Motherhood is feeling alive. A mellow, tranquil bursting my heart open kind of alive. Yet - as strange as it sounds - sometimes it comes with a sense of dread.
My baby will grow up, she will leap off into her future leaving me again with this feeling of hollowness. Of a life that will be stamped with average.
and yet I don't know what is not average.
The more I live, the more I know that if there is one thing that is a constant - its me. Sitting in the Himalayas, or by the sea coast, on my office desk or watching tv. I remain me. The external places will never change how my head thinks. My happiness isn't connected to a thank you mail, a gift or a party. It is in my reaction to these events, the level of importance that it has
So what is.
I have stared at the blinking cursor for 5 minutes, to answer that.
10 years ago, the words would have rolled off. Travelling, meeting people. making connections, learning new things, being connected to the cosmos, being silly, making memories - yada yada yada, doing more, learning more, being more - a mad bouncy ball would have shrieked in mock horror at the others mellowness
Sure. Each of those is still valid and true. And forgetfullish. I do, I get happy. I forget,
Its external. Movie plots, books, plays, recitals, - come and vanish. Vapour off. They dont even leave behind memory chunks like they were supposed too. Fading off is unacceptable.Not if that is what was to have been about staying alive
Memories and being in the moment are not connected.
Maybe I cant compel my consciousness to choose what to remember and what not to
Maybe I should stop worrying about making memories and focus on living the today
If it remembers good. If not then not
Reality is - That this is all bull. Reality is that me and my average life are happy. Reality changes.
A child does not delve in demarcating between imagination and reality.
At the end, we are all living someones imagination, as our reality