The Great Divide

Rivers meet the ocean - that's what they do, without effort they gurgle in one consistent direction until the mouth appears and all become one.

Each river has its own easy assignment. It has no concerns or questions about speed or destination. It's job is easy and when it deposits into that great ocean, well - then it's the ocean's responsibility to deal with misplaced sticks or stubborn boulders.

Lately, I feel as though this is my life with one main exception. I am the ocean. And, the process works backwards.

I feel as if somehow each role I play in this life is one of the feeding rivers, except I cannot just sit back and allow them to rush over me, sustaining my momentum and creating new pathways. No, in this aquatic metaphor, the ocean feeds the rivers working against the current, if you will, like a salmon in search of a mate.

Here are my rivers:

My home: its general cleanliness and state of calm
My family: that they may feel equally important as all the rest of my endeavors
My book: enough said - writing means everything to me
My online family: that connections may strengthen and new ones create
Share Southern Vermont: its conception, the memory walk, and the quest for 501 (c) 3 status
My interpreting career: that I finish my testing process and get to work!
Myself - (and don't be concerned that this is last, be glad it's on the list at all. A few years ago it wouldn't have been) That exercise, meditation, and yoga continue to effect me in such a postive way.

I am the ocean swaying from one small mouth to the other, consciencly choosing which path needs me more today, to be fed, to be lifted up by inspiration, to be given direction with full understanding that something else may fall short.

This is not my optimal lifestyle. This is 'biting off more than one can chew' as they say. However, I do not think this ocean force-feeds rivers phenomona would feel so overwhelming if my endeavours were related, in just the slightest of ways. But each, so independent of the other, requires countless hours of research and training, none of which can be overlayed into the path of another.

Perhaps I am not the ocean. Perhaps I am a boat on that ocean; an indecisive vessel unable to commit to the quest of land, or treasure, or pirating, or searching for my one true love. I spin in endless, untraceable circles within my vast watery abode with no bearing of finality.

No, that cannot be entirely true either, for I know what I envision for that final moment. It is the space in time when all rivers have their marching orders. When each current has been set and flows independent of me, to me, without my constant attention.

When my family feels so settled in their home that we work as a team, sharing every experience, negotiating every conflict to a viable solution.

When Share Southern Vermont has multiple trained volunteers working with families in crisis and running groups.

When my book is published, touching and inspiring others in their time of desperation.

When my weekly schedule is planned out by job site and client, knowing I will be - once again - consistently using my American Sign Language skills.

And Yes - When I feel one with this life, ready to meet any experience that presents itself with perpsective and grace...

That's when the tide will turn.

Eight years ago you couldn't have convinced me that life had the ability to inspire again.
Today, it's bursting with Emma's name and the promise that when I am able to stop, admire, and take a breath; no doubt I'll invent a few more rivers.