Today I’ve been thinking about flexibility. No, not the gymnastic kind. Even though I am short enough for the sport, I remember watching open mouthed as my son’s girlfriend, who is a dancer, casually pulled her leg up into the air so that her ankle was positioned next to her cheek. Good Lord!
The kind of flexibility I am talking about is in the life that I have the privilege to lead. It’s not my right to have this life. I could have been born in any era (my dad always said I must have been from a different time period!) and I could have been born in any country in the world.
I could have been born to parents who didn’t give a damn about me; maybe even parents who would consider selling me to the slave trade a fair deal for a few months food/ drugs/ etc., or even sold to overly strict parents with no regard to who I wanted to be or how I wanted to live my life.
But instead I was born to Australian parents, in a country that values and fights for individual freedom and choice. I was born to a family who valued love over money and relationship over personal gain.
I was born to parents who did everything they knew they could to give me a good life and even when I goaded them into arguments to disrupt the status quo that made me feel like I was suffocating, they never threw me away. They never discarded me; ignored me; forgot about me or hurt me.
How does this tie into flexibility? Because the life I have now, could not have been possible if a number, or all of these elements had been different. Plausible, maybe, but not as possible as they really have been.
To top all this off, I have a husband who treasures me. Ew, that sounds so dopey, but really, it’s incredibly true. I often wonder what I’ve done to deserve his soppy puppy dog love, even after 23 years and every time I wonder he reminds me that it has nothing to do with what I do. Ha, got me again.
The life I lead is one that I chose. I chose how my days transpire. I chose how much housework, project work, creativity and rest I let play through each 24 hours. I am never questioned by the family I adore, and yet I question myself regularly, anxious not to step over that line of unconditional acceptance.
I am grateful for the chosen environment of flexibility and unconditional relationship that I am surrounded by. To be loved and accepted like this is not something I take lightly. I doubt I will ever be able to fully appreciate the depths with which they draw from to give me this space but I will spend the rest of my life trying to honour it.
Any thoughts for today? Hm, maybe just one:
With much love,