Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Living intentionally

  

    I grew up in a household that was financed solely by my mother. She worked full-time as a therapist in private practice, and certainly pulled in enough money to provide monetarily for my brother and I. I watched my mom work hard, and find fulfillment in her job, and I always assumed my future as a woman and mother would be the same. For a long time, I tried to find my place in the world as a therapist of some kind; I wanted a profession that I could fully immerse myself in. I wanted something I loved to do, but more importantly, would make me a lot of money. I was stuck in the 'money =  happiness' myth that so many people, especially Americans, are trapped in, sometimes for a lifetime. Eventually, I was lucky enough to realize that what I really loved to do would never make me a lot of money, but simply having the opportunity to do what I loved provided the  happiness I was looking for.
I began to redefine happiness. I discovered that having a job that would make me rich was actually more likely to make me unhappy, as I would probably become a slave to my work in an attempt to keep the money flowing in. Being rich would make it difficult to be satisfied with what I had, because in our consumer culture, newer always equals better; and there is always something new and upgraded to be had. I thought success meant I would never have to clean my own house, my wardrobe would always have designer labels, and I could vacation around the world whenever I wanted. I began to redefine success.
What makes someone successful? I think the answer is different for everyone. Success is not a one-size-fits-all thing. To one person, being successful could mean owning a successful business, for another, it could be making a difference in other people's lives. After a long time of thought and self-discovery, I was quite surprised to find that, for me, success was a lot easier to achieve than I had thought. I didn't need a PHD to get it, nor did I need professional recognition or my name mounted on any walls. For me, success and happiness is a lot closer to home.
I want, above all things, to be the kind of wife, mother, and person who is never too busy to stop and listen to what someone else has to say. More than anything else, I want to be the kind of parent I couldn't possibly be if I were working full-time in a private practice. Being successful means my children will remember me as a source of love and comfort, an active presence in their lives. My friends will remember me as someone who genuinely cared about them and gave freely, even if I had little to offer. My husband will remember me as his constant supporter and #1 fan. Being successful is more about who I am as a person, as opposed to what I do for a living.  So what does that mean for my life right now? Especially considering I will soon be a stay-at-home mom, no longer working outside the home. That question beckons me to look even harder at my life, who I am as a person, and how I relate to the world.
I find the most meaning and fulfillment, the most success and happiness, when I live every day intentionally. Living intentionally means finding purpose in everything you do, especially in the small things. To me, it means refusing to conform to consumerism and convenience. For instance,  I do not own a microwave, so even the simple act of heating up a leftover becomes a practice in intention and mindfulness. The food ends up tasting better when I patiently wait for it to heat the naturally in the oven. Becoming a mother has made me more aware than ever of how my lifestyle directly reflects upon my mental condition and my relation to the universe. I want to inspire my future children to challenge cultural norms, and not to be conditioned into believing that faster and easier mean better. I want to be a reminder that success isn't about where you fit in the rat race. Being happy with your life is more about finding pleasure in simplicity, and chasing dreams is different from chasing dollars.
As Mother Teresa said, “We cannot do great things on this earth, only small things with great love.”

Thursday, January 27, 2011

My return from the recesses of change

Six months pregnant.

Time has gone by, so much time since I’ve even looked at this journal. How could I look? Who was this girl that used to write here? She’s just a memory, someone I recognize from pictures, but someone who is long gone.

My life has changed so much. In these past six months, I have been turned upside down, flipped inside out, forgotten myself and discovered someone new. Now my life is not just mine, but co-owned by someone I have never met. In just three months, I will know this person. I will hold this little person in my arms and gaze at its face for hours. I will learn all about its likes and dislikes, teach it to love nature and good food, challenge it to create its own path in the world.

Pregnancy has been an interesting journey for me so far. Full of bumps and unglamorous moments, but also full of awe and anticipation. Exhilaration, every time I feel my little person squirm and kick. It loves music, and the sound of its father’s voice, two things that never fail to get a reaction. On Christmas Eve, Husband took me to see The San Francisco Ballet perform The Nutcracker, a brilliant performance highlighted by the excited thumps within my belly. My little Mozart.

I love this little person already, but in a strangely disconnected way. Perhaps I would feel more passionate if I could call it my son, or my daughter, but I would rather wait to know details like those. For now, I prefer to know it, to love it, simply as my child. Whether it is a boy or a girl is irrelevant to the fact that it is a piece of my soul, and a piece of Husband’s soul, manifested into a new soul within my body. Husband and I were two people, and soon we will be three. Our little family will become a little bigger. I will love this child with a sudden, primal passion that is reserved strictly for mothers. I will carry the torch, and bring the next generation to life.