The octagon shapes that moved around like scattered diamonds on the bottom of the pool, had my full attention until my naked husband swam by. Then, Sebastian, our 2-year-old Aussiedoodle, dove in between us. So much beauty.
Was this an unwanted distraction that interrupted my serenity, or was it a special occurrence in my life that would be gone in a few seconds, leaving me with the play of the sun on the water?
Many years ago, the sight of my naked husband swimming by would have created feelings of lust, and I’d have laughed when the dog joined the party. What I felt this morning was enormous gratitude for the man, the dog, and the ongoing bounty of my life. I pulled myself high above the pool and looked down at the beautiful scene of us three being at play together in the water, which is a rare gift meriting my full attention. How privileged I am, and have been, my entire life.
Should such joy at the bounty of my life be hidden from view? Is it more acceptable to publicly focus attention on our shared threat and disturbance? Is writing about what is perfect in my personal life selfish and insensitive, rather than rattling off all the inhumane edicts and efforts of today’s governance of the people?
When I was doing corporate trainings on LGBTQ issues of diversity, equity, and inclusion, it became more frequent that companies would ask me to compress my eight-hour workshop into an hour-long presentation. I said “yes” rather than “no” because educating for an hour was better than not having any time at all.
Quite often, as the auditorium would fill up at the appointed hour, my host would say, “Let’s wait 15 minutes for the stragglers.” I would reply, “That’s fine, but which 15 minutes of my presentation do you want me to cut out?” They would respond, “Okay, everyone, please take your seats. We’re going to get started.”
My question to myself today is, “Which 15 minutes do I cut out of being aware and grateful for my life?” “How much time will be devoted to bemoaning what an immoral President we have, and of how we’re becoming a fascist state?” “At what point is it necessary for me to accept that Ray has swum by me, the dog has finished his swim, some clouds have blocked the sun, and that the shining octagons on the bottom of the pool have disappeared?”
It’s a balancing act, isn’t it? Love for self and one’s life partner requires that the garbage be taken out, and the dog poop be scooped. Love of others and the world also takes time and effort. Before we die, we need to be the ones paying attention to what 15 minutes will be cut from our gratitude for our lives and from our concern for the well-being of the state.
