All the motivational books or sayings you will read say it is entirely up to you and you alone to forge your path. The rocks thrown down in your way are for you to navigate around or through and reach the other side again and again and again. Oh, phooey.
To me, reality is being patient and allowing the events and decisions that are made around you reveal opportunity for you. Such it is with my book, my health, my husband, my children, my living arrangements and my friends.
For example: The fate of my book is in the hands of several royalty publishers who await my revised manuscript. I will not make the 'yea' or 'nay' decision; they will. But it is me who will decide how to manage the results - puff, puff forward as I select a publisher or take the blow of a 'no' and choose to use a different bat, swing another way, but never give up. It's not for me to say.
Living moment to moment means allowing yourself to just be. The miracle could be just around the corner! Have you heard or read that one? I have and it keeps me going although it did not prevent my brother from committing suicide last August. It's not for me to say.
Yesterday, I traipsed around New York City again and today I feel like gloopy leftover oatmeal. There's my health problems waving 'hello.' Today, although it's only Tuesday, is a day of rest. It's not for me to say.
My husband and I will be married 30 years this September. I want a ceremony in our Church to renew our vows. He doesn't like doing anything in public. It's not for me to say yet I know a compromise will come to us.
My sons are both in their twenties and know everything, of course, so I have little or no input into their daily doings. I rejoice when we are all together and enjoy each other's company. When? It's not for me to say.
We live in New York but have a lovely condo in South Carolina. When will we get there permanently? What decisions are left to be made? Time will tell. It's not for me to say.
Just like when I was sick with cancer, I have lost some friends who, I must conclude, couldn't deal with my overwhelming grief these past nine months. Those friends have their reasons and I know new friends will reveal themselves. It happened before and it's not for me to say.
Reading the lengthy feature article in this week's issue of New York Magazine about my brother's ordinary yet extraordinary life, I can only conclude that we all make our way with adversity and triumph. We all struggle and compete and rise to many occasion. Oftentimes, we stumble and get right back up. At other times, like my brother, we choose not to get up again when we feel our work on Earth is done. (NOTE: The article, entitled The Man Who Was Immune to AIDS, but not what came after is not 'clickable' for those who do not subscribe. Later in the week, it will be available for all.)
As the final paragraph of the article says:
"Over time, (Steve's) sisters have provisionally come to see evidence for (a) less tragic view not only in his birthday message to Amy ('enjoy gift') but in the way he was found in the car by the police. With the seat reclined as far as it could go and a CD of Buddhist chants nearby, he'd propped his feet up on the dashboard. He was smiling."
It's not for me to say. I loved him anyway.
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