The Luck of the Draw

There was a thread I read on a local listserve this week that asked what was the meanest thing any one had said to you or about you.

I knew immediately what was the meanest thing anyone had ever said about me.

Someone who had known me a large chunk of my young adult to adult life said that I had been very lucky.

Said in the context of how my life had turned out.

In my estimation, pretty much the most insulting thing you can do is to discount someone's impact on their own life.

Yes, I count my blessings. I know that in the grand scheme of things that I live a life of comfort.

But I got up every day and earned it.

I studied for the grades I received in school. I cultivated the professional relationships. I saved my money. I made hard choices.

This is not to say that I did not have help - on the contrary I had a hell of a lot of help. Or to say that I was not sometimes in the right place at the right time.

Or even, that I was lucky.

Because I was.

I am.

But luck will only get you to the starting line.

The finish line way off in the yonder?

Well, that is all up to what YOU do to reach it.

Step One: Awareness

The lights were dim.

 

Waves of ambient music washed over me.

 

My body was nestled under a heated blanket.

 

A solid two minutes into the facial I realized my jaw was clenched, my teeth grinding, my neck stiff, my shoulders so hunched they melded with my ears.

 

I was reminded of a recent conversation I had with Big Sis as I had an emotional breakdown in the condiments aisle of the 7^th Street Giant. (However, that is a story for another day.)

 

She pointed out that I have a “hereditary” tendency to jackknife between dwelling on the past and worrying about the future. Meanwhile the present is a fly in my peripheral radar.

 

My problem is I do not live in the moment.

 

As I unclenched my fists under the warm, soft folds of the blanket, I allowed that perhaps Big Sis was on to something.

 

It had been an epically crappy day, preceded by several high stress, unpleasant weeks. But here I was in the lap of indulgent restoration. I should be embracing this moment. Move on from that which has passed. Let go of that which I cannot control. (That last one is a real toughie for me.)

 

I can do this. I released my shoulders. I took a deep, cleansing breath.

 

The spa’s usual zen jungle soundtrack was, today, interspersed with instrumental versions of 1940’s movie scores. As the music from Gone with the Wind wafted over me, I was Vivian Leigh on the MGM soundstage. I pulled deep from within and as my eyes swelled with tears in harmony with the music swelling to a crescendo, I swore – “As god is my witness, I will live in the moment!”.

 

And I did.

 

Right up to the purifying face mask when I mentally reviewed the schedule for the coming weekend.