Sunday, February 27, 2005

The Future is Monday

Despite my recent diatribe regarding staying in the present, tonight I am experiencing feelings of dread as Sunday comes to a close and Monday morning is mere hours away, when the alarm clock will awaken me from my slumber and signal the start of the working week. True to what I so recently wrote yesterday, my enjoyment of this Sunday evening is clouded by the preparations which I'm making for the week (ironing, laundry, reviewing my Palm Pilot calendar, packing a bag for the gym, finishing lecture notes for Tuesday night's lecture), and my mind wanders to the fact that in only 12 hours I will be at my desk, the beeper beginning to ring, the calls coming in, the pile of charts and to-do's waiting for me patiently to pay them some mind.

I bring myself back to the present: At this very moment, I am sitting next to Mary as she types into her laptop, candles burning on the coffee table, Tina the dog snoring lightly, Sparkey half-asleep on the floor. I can hear the hum of the heating system, the tap of Mary's fingers on the keyboard, my own fingers darting on this computer, the rustle of Mary's jacket as her arm shifts position. I remind myself that this lovely home is ours, it's furnished and has a new roof. We have two cars---used but functioning---in the driveway. We went to dinner and a concert with good friends last night, and have yet another concert to attend on Friday night. Our checking account is in the red today, but paychecks are poised to be deposited this week. Our son is healthy, happy, and in love, and although I have a few minor health problems, we are both lucky and relatively healthy. The fact that I have a job (three, actually) to even go to is something for which I should be grateful.

Taking stock, I review my blessings, my fortunate status, my relative priviledge, and I can release my dread in this moment. I may not be flying to Puerto Rico today like one couple we know, or another couple who leave for a 5 week trip to Mexico on Tuesday, but my life is blessed and my cup runneth over whether I am conscious of it or not.

To feel sorry for oneself is perhaps the greatest conceit, one of which I am prone to be guilty. I must be honest with myself about my inner process, face these truths that cause me to lose so many moments of clarity and fulfillment, and try again to face each day as if it were the gift that it is.
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