it has taken me a long time to realize or to admit that i have made a choice to live on the other side of the world.
“The key to your happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have, and own the ones you don't. If you keep saying your slippers aren't yours, then you'll die searching, you'll die bitter, always feeling you were promised more. Not only our actions, but also our omissions, become our destiny.”abraham verghese, cutting for stone
it's time to own my slippers. or more appropriately, my flip-flops. i've been wearing them for years now and i've been wondering. wondering things like, are they comfortable? are my kids happy that i wear them? will i grow tired of them? are they my style? are they worth the price? i mean, i don't have to wear these flip-flops. but i have been wearing them and watching as other people move on to shoes. i've been wearing them and wondering at what point i will get so sick of dirty feet that i too will trade in my flip-flops for some shoes.
i've known inside myself that these are my flip-flops since i was 17 years old and went to kenya. i didn't know when or how or even why. i just knew. but knowing it and wearing them are different. and trying them on and buying them are different too.
because of that knowing, five years ago when we moved here it felt like an easy choice. it felt like one of many choices we'd made in our lives- moving to atlanta, moving to san francisco, moving back to atlanta. moving to africa was another move, just a bit farther. only it's not. it's on the other side of the world and a different time zone, and i mean that in decades. maybe it would be another move if it were sandwiched between moves. if after 3 or 4 or even 5 years we decided it's time to move home and buy shoes. but look,
i'm still wearing these flip-flops and i think it's time for me to own that i'm wearing them.
i'm doing a lot of work these days on listen inside and holding my hands to be open to the mystery. i'm working on, as richard rohr says, 'the sacrament of the present moment, that will teach us how to actually experience our experiences, whether good or bad or ugly, and how to let them transform us.'
i'm working on accepting that 'reality requires more of a both/and approach, than an either/or differentiation.'
i'm working on how to wear these flip-flops, and how to wear them really well.
sometimes they hurt if i'm walking far or too fast, so they help me to slow down.
sometimes my kids don't like them, they prefer to be barefooted or shoe-ed, and that's okay.
sometimes they don't match what i'm wearing, sometimes i want something sparkly or heeled.
and sometimes i get tired of dirt stained feet.
these things are true- but that doesn't mean their not meant for my feet.
we need to own our choices. owning them gives the freedom to embrace them, live fully in them, invest, engage, and grow in them. bloom. thrive.
here i feel most myself and least like i should be on to the next thing. i love what i see when i drive along the bumpy road. i love the heat of the sun on my arm out the window. i love the sound of the night and the smell of burning things. i love it in a way that probably makes no sense to people who like to wear sneakers. but here i'm no longer searching for other shoes.
and maybe that's how i know the slippers are mine.
“The key to your happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have, and own the ones you don't. If you keep saying your slippers aren't yours, then you'll die searching, you'll die bitter, always feeling you were promised more. Not only our actions, but also our omissions, become our destiny.”abraham verghese, cutting for stone
it's time to own my slippers. or more appropriately, my flip-flops. i've been wearing them for years now and i've been wondering. wondering things like, are they comfortable? are my kids happy that i wear them? will i grow tired of them? are they my style? are they worth the price? i mean, i don't have to wear these flip-flops. but i have been wearing them and watching as other people move on to shoes. i've been wearing them and wondering at what point i will get so sick of dirty feet that i too will trade in my flip-flops for some shoes.
i've known inside myself that these are my flip-flops since i was 17 years old and went to kenya. i didn't know when or how or even why. i just knew. but knowing it and wearing them are different. and trying them on and buying them are different too.
because of that knowing, five years ago when we moved here it felt like an easy choice. it felt like one of many choices we'd made in our lives- moving to atlanta, moving to san francisco, moving back to atlanta. moving to africa was another move, just a bit farther. only it's not. it's on the other side of the world and a different time zone, and i mean that in decades. maybe it would be another move if it were sandwiched between moves. if after 3 or 4 or even 5 years we decided it's time to move home and buy shoes. but look,
i'm still wearing these flip-flops and i think it's time for me to own that i'm wearing them.
i'm doing a lot of work these days on listen inside and holding my hands to be open to the mystery. i'm working on, as richard rohr says, 'the sacrament of the present moment, that will teach us how to actually experience our experiences, whether good or bad or ugly, and how to let them transform us.'
i'm working on accepting that 'reality requires more of a both/and approach, than an either/or differentiation.'
i'm working on how to wear these flip-flops, and how to wear them really well.
sometimes they hurt if i'm walking far or too fast, so they help me to slow down.
sometimes my kids don't like them, they prefer to be barefooted or shoe-ed, and that's okay.
sometimes they don't match what i'm wearing, sometimes i want something sparkly or heeled.
and sometimes i get tired of dirt stained feet.
these things are true- but that doesn't mean their not meant for my feet.
we need to own our choices. owning them gives the freedom to embrace them, live fully in them, invest, engage, and grow in them. bloom. thrive.
here i feel most myself and least like i should be on to the next thing. i love what i see when i drive along the bumpy road. i love the heat of the sun on my arm out the window. i love the sound of the night and the smell of burning things. i love it in a way that probably makes no sense to people who like to wear sneakers. but here i'm no longer searching for other shoes.
and maybe that's how i know the slippers are mine.
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