My last post ended with a blurrying cover-story that I may not write again until the New Year....I guess it was an ahead-of-time attempt to prevent any further feelings of failure. No need. There is always room for writings, aren't there?
This one comes out of an afternoon tea session with a Christmas mug in my cupboard. Events over the past week (aside from class gossip) had me turning my stomach, and while positives like our game night with neighbors and friends was truly, truly joyful; I have had my ups and downs very close together recently, and hoped tea was an outlet to calm me.
I met with a woman last week who helps operate the headquarter conference center of a relatively new nonprofit in the Philadelphia area. Her father is on the board of directors, but as she assured me, "don't be put off that there's family involved." Quite the contrary, as I assured her, it seemed more beneficial to me to involve family with a matter that requires blood, sweat, and tears like any growing nonprofit needs. Also like stated in my previous post, this time of year, like an organization such as this one, has emotions running high when efforts are composed of such intensity with usually with only a few solid results. I found out yesterday that while the position may not be exactly what was proposed, involvement for me may occur with a foundation by which I am intrigued, and for which I am hopeful in its potential future accomplishments.
Without getting into much about the "could-bes" of the meeting, today was emotionally again a little sluggish. I did some excel-creating with our family's newest budgets and what will be a more budgeted spending allowance for each member. Hopefully that will be something we can continue regardless of what we make, because then what we earn and are able to spend wisely will be more rewarding. I did some people-watching at the ever-bustling mall. Speaking of spending....totally put down some gloriously priced merchandise and bought their images with my eyes, instead! I came home, turned on a repeat of Oprah, and made some hot cinnamon tea.
It was the episode revisiting Ali McGraw and Ryan O'Neal's epic Love Story from the 1970s. I remembered as much being totally "wowed" by Ali in particular -- she is currently 71 years old and her spirit (and looks, quite frankly) are more vibrant and ubiquitous than many people I know my age or close to it. Oprah was asking her life questions, love questions, media questions, and all of her answers were so incredibly honest. It was clear that her heart dictates her life, and each response or reaction to the interview came from such a real place. Like anyone, she had exclaimed regret and poor life choices, but never denied they built her, or provided her with becoming just that much more authentic.
In one such answer, I was wrapped in the warmth of my tea, and peered down into the mug. With all the occurring moments in that instance, I recognized my mug was nearly empty - seriously not the "half full/half empty" debate - I had about four or five sips of this delicious beverage left :). All of the spices, and cinnamon, and herbs had collected in a pool at the bottom. The flavored water above it was no doubt infused, but the essence of the drink was concentrated in a little cloud on the bottom. I typically just swirl about my drink when this happens; like with hot chocolate, the collection of ingredients reswirled invigorates the end of a lovely, winter-soothing beverage. This time, I kept staring at the brown dots. No movement, just gaze. And I began to envision the tea as my quest for authenticity. To compare myself to anything other than myself, I understand, is not very authentic. But, what inspired me to write this now, was to imagine that the spices were my true self, my energy, and the water above it was my life. For some reason, for some goal, my true spirits have been lately tested. Tested for different things, but most internally relating to a job purpose for myself and my family. I imagined myself standing at the bottom of the mug, peering into the eyes of my husband through the murky liquid, wanting to shout, "Drink me now! I'm pure and spicy! I'm concentrated and sure of myself! If you swirl me about, you're a fool for I will disappear!" Then I thought about that energy swirling around, it became mobilizing in a different way. "Oh! Spin me around! Diffuse me and blend me into the entire being of my life! I will represent the best version of myself as an aura of warmth in every gulp!"
Both scenarios are right. Each version of myself (or tea herbs) is flavorful and my life though unnervingly settled right now, is still full of my spirit. That is what I need to remember. Sometimes to be true, I will need sabbaticals like the professional one I have endured during these past six months. Sometimes, to be authentic, I may need to dispense myself in a million directions. Not for distraction tactics, but to apply myself in many positive outlets. Whatever way I do it, it is not to be judged, but reviewed individually. Different occasions will call for a different personal flavoring, but I hope to keep myself responsible in fulfilling an authentic substance. I hope to gain, by the age of 71 and beyond, life results which are true and comforting alike.
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