It happened at 4:24 p.m. one Saturday afternoon in late August. I was emptying the dishwasher, getting ready to feed my dog dinner when I was overcome with a thought – or was it a feeling then a thought? Whatever it was it was loud and clear – it was enough. I was feeling enough. Whole. Content. Wanting only what I had.
I wanted the house I was in. I wanted the husband I was sharing a mortgage and a life with. I wanted the two exquisite step-children he gave me. Not only did I want it – for the first time in maybe ever – I felt myself receive it. There I was putting away glasses and silverware and feeling as cleansed as my dinnerware.
I was startled. I have always been a seeker – a goal-setter, a self-improver by nature, a never-enougher. Comically calling myself a “possibility chic” because of the rush I would get every time the calendar provided a birthday or a New Year opportunity to reflect and recommit to impossibly lofty but ever so tantalizing resolutions. And professionally I was a trained and dedicated leadership and life coach – committed to helping my clients change, strive, grow, be their best selves.
I was three months past my 49th birthday and was already planning the possibilities for my 50th so as not to be left unawares, or worse, downright depressed. But now, putting away my glasses I felt an alchemy of gratitude, fullness, deservedness and enoughness. I wanted what I had – even though the temperature was a good 15-degrees cooler than it “should have been” this time of year, even though my cat saw fit to throw up his breakfast on the carpet we had cleaned last week and even though I worried about how I would get all my to-do’s done the next day.
Maybe this moment of non-striving is the moment I have been striving for.
And then of course I had to fend off the immediate fear that feeling this complete can only mean one thing – something horrific is about to happen. And I had to fight the urge to text all the people I love to make sure they were safe and remind myself to schedule my yearly mammogram.
But in the meantime I was going to finish emptying the dishwasher and feeling the fullness of just being wholly enough.
that was magnificent
beautiful, rich, strong, thoughtful
LOVED IT
as i do you
dad
Thank you Cheryl! What a wonderful reflection of how epiphany can strike at even the most mundane of moments. I just finished the dishes, and while I did not experience pure contentment (this time), your experience reminded me to take a moment to appreciate the potential for finding fullness and gratitude in everyday routines. Thank you for sharing this meaningful observation.
Cheryl,
Great insights, profoundly stated! The power of the ordinary can be truly amazing, and you helped us see that. I loved your words! Thanks.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection, Cheryl. How we all torture ouselves wanting more of something, instead of being present to the fullness of “now”! This so resonated with me. I had a similar ephiphany a few years ago, when I simply woke up one morning, looked at my husband sleeping next to me, and (after years of questioning our marriage, and just about everything else) thought “what if this is the absolute perfect partner for me.” Miraculously, he has been ever since :-).
Thank you so much Cheryl. It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to read your epiphany. My life has been one of many challenges the past few years–or for most of life, depending on how you look at it. Becoming aware of how I talk to myself has been a life saver for me. Today will be day #215 of a gratitude project a laughter of buddy of mine and I began meaning it to be 30 days of listing at least 3 things we are grateful for in our lives–no repeats. So no matter what is going on in our lives, we find the good stuff, post it on FB and really sit with the grateful feelings. Your book is really needed and your posting made me smile on a not so happy day. Deep breath. Today I am grateful that someone met you at the Corner Bakery, found about your book and passed word of it along to me. 🙂
A short PS: So the 30 days is now more than 200. I am a Certified Laughter Leader-Expert doing therapeutic laughter programs and in laughter land, Wednesdays are for gratitude. Be well. Be blessed.