That Was Then... The Best Is Yet To Be

Last year, I spent Memorial Day in the small trattoria near the train station in Venezia, the very same place where I had a meal on Thanksgiving Day in 2007. The trip was filled with so much joy, it spilled forth from me freely (as evidenced by the photos taken there). My mind easily drifts back and forth between the days past and those to come. I struggle to remind myself to come back into the present moment, to be strong through this, to be weak, to be whatever I am right here and now because in the end, this, this, this moment is all I have. The journey through unexpected serious illness is charting the unknown where every step is now one carefully placed.  I miss running through the night with others who felt the same creative drive and passion I did. I miss seeing the dawn through sleepy eyes, happy for a million and ten reasons and none at all. I miss having too much to do and not enough time. I miss being a sweaty, relaxed, hot mess after yoga, running home, turning around like Clark Kent and putting on my metaphorical Superwoman cape, grabbing my camera and being  at a concert to shoot my little heart out an hour or two later. But, for as deeply as I immersed myself in the life I created, it disappeared just as quickly. And for now, my journey is different yet again-- and nothing that I expected.

I had another epiphany the other day. No matter whether I am sick or well, rich or poor, my task in this life is to create and add beauty and love to the world. For a long time, I felt that my ability to do so was held by the leash of conditions. I was shy about having something to say, quiet about the fullness of my abilities. Being smart as a kid, too smart for those around me to handle, left me lonely and restless, forever waiting to find my "people." I knew they had to be out there somewhere. Now, I seem to find those I connect with easily. I just wasn't ready for it before I started finding them.

I catch myself saying "I want my life back." But, with each passing sunset, I know there is really no going "back." I will never be able to reclaim or redo these months. I don't get to fix or amend what has been or relive the days as I wish they had been. But, I do get to carry the inner gifts this intense challenge has provided  forward into my future, into my art, into my life. There is a kind of beauty in surrender when it is without giving up.

So, when my mind drifts to what has been, I know that was then and this is now. And, just as I think that sentence is complete, a tiny, determined voice from my heart says, "But, wait, the best is yet to be." Yes, the best, the very best is yet to be.