What’s missing

Did you ever notice how much we crave what’s missing? Money, love, things, friends?

For good and for bad — since missing also often reminds us of how much we truly have —  we put a lot of unintended energy towards missing.

I also notice how much unintended energy I put into anticipation. How revved up I get. Excited, nervous, anxious. Often, I put much more energy into anticipating than into the activity or interaction itself.

In some ways, I relish that moment “just before.” We learn by experience from a very early age that the moment just before something good is often the climax of the event itself. And certainly more satisfying than when the moment has passed.

It’s not purposeful, this anticipatory anxiety; this desire.

It’s automatic.


We get very little training in how to appreciate the moment.

The before is often… heart-stirring.

The after is sometimes… heartbreaking.

Either way, our heart is moved. And this is what our mind remembers.

But the moment itself?

Unless we make a great effort — which we often don’t — the moment itself is tempered, at best, and at worst, passes us by without much of our emotional attention.

We’re too busy doing to feel.

So, in a way, we’re training our heart to crave the before and after. Not the moment itself.

When I think about how much emotional upheaval I often go through in the acts of missing and anticipation, I wonder how my heart can handle it all. And if, in some way, I can channel the efforts of anticipation and missing into love and appreciation of the moment itself.

Is this even possible?

Has anyone succeeded in doing this?

Is it as simple as re-training my heart to stir …or to break… in the moment itself, as opposed to before and after?

To purposefully redirect the spinning whirlwind…

To feel alive while in the act of living?

In right now?

Their stubborness, their bodies

Yesterday wasn’t the first day I was reminded that we accidentally on purpose train our daughters to give up rights to their bodies. Even though…

Color of

“War is what happens when language fails.” — Margaret Atwood * * * * * This is the color of my voice these days ……