still life.

Just when I thought I'd posted my last lizard blog, the critters outdo themselves. This weekend we took a bike ride to Micanopy in 98-degree heat (104 with the humidity factor; p.s. I almost died). Standing around drinking water after, Lindsey noticed him in the hinge of the front door. Who knows how long his little corpse lay hidden there, or the exact moment his life snapped swiftly shut, stamped out mid-motion?



This day's evolved into something of a yearly mid-motion stamping of myself. An impression of life at this given moment, leaving behind snapshots I set side by side each year. Clearly I have too much time on my hands.

Last year's snapshot was also my first post, about ferocity and folderol. About the foolishness of passion that clings wildly to an ideal, beyond the point of no return. Beyond the point at which the heart commits itself to a fervent, hopeless path rather than accept - both disappointing and liberating - the need to change course.

What would it look like if I was pressed in a book (or a door hinge) today?

I'm less afraid of anything now than I've ever been. I'm more ready for disappointment. Not in a bleak way, but in a way that understands all life's tiny deviations from what you hoped for are not the same thing as disappointment. Having what you wanted is not victory, and changing - even letting go - is not loss. There is no such thing as The Way It Should Be. There's only The Way It Is, and however it is it's a gift. Even and sometimes especially when you hate it.

Change also loses its potency to disappoint when you stop expecting what's not yours to ask for. I'm less afraid because I'm learning to make fewer assumptions about what I'm entitled to, and considering more of what others need. My heart still makes its commitments, but it finds itself beyond fewer rubicons. It doesn't believe in easily given promises. It doesn't offer what it can't afford to forego. It offers small, solid promises that are thought out and can be counted on when given.

This may sound too controlled. But in reality it's about giving up control, about paring our needs down to what we really require and deserve, and letting go of the comforts we mislabel needs. I'm finding this posture toward the world softens the pain that comes when we don't get what we want, because we know it's only that. It's only what we want.