As far as summers go, this one will probably be hard to beat.
We are riding the incredible high of returning from an adventure and, as with any good adventure, we've returned with treasure. While we lost more possessions than we acquired during our travels – the bounty we return with is, of course, the memories we hold as a family and the stories we can share with others. And that is exactly what we've been doing – since returning from our trip we have focused our energies as a family on reconnecting with the people we love.
It's only been six weeks – and we haven't completed our rounds yet – then again – it's only August 2 and we still have half a summer to make the most of.
Making the most of the experience seems to be a recurring theme for me in this space. With every story I recount about the travel experience we had I am bolstered by a growing internal awareness of the fact that we didn't hold back while we were away. I suppose that this could be the perspective of nostalgia. Or the psychological effect of cognitive dissonance – where we justify and rationalize the outcomes of our decisions while traveling because considering the alternative would be too embarrassing or too painful – but I don't think so. Of course there were moments on the road – lots of them – that were less than glorious. And some that were downright ugly. But I don't think there were a disproportionate amount of ugly moments as compared to everyday life. We made the most of it. I know it.
All that said, over these past few weeks, in our private moments, Hil and I have been having a recurring discussion that rings with a different tone. It goes something like this:
- We see some friends or family and relive the glory of travel
- We put the kids to bed and make plans for the next day – Who is dropping off and picking up from day camp? When are we going to get our driver's licenses updated to our new address? What about that missed life insurance payment? Etc.
- And when we are done hashing through the nuts and bolts of our incredibly fortunate and privileged lives, we wonder aloud: did that just happen? Did we really just travel around the world with our three kids and stand beside elephants and take surfing lessons and clamour through ancient palaces and eat frogs legs?
The last thing I want to do here is come off sounding as though I am anything less than awestruck by what we did together. And yet the reality of our situation is that we used to be here:
And now we're here:
(That's the view of the GO train commuter lot today on my way home from work…)
And there are moments when it feels like maybe it was all a dream.
And here is what I am driving at: this kind of thinking is a trap. And like any good trap it is waiting there patiently (albeit in my mind) for a moment of vulnerability when it can ambush my heart and my sensibilities. It's the tyranny of our consumer culture that makes me feel that if I am not actively planning or doing the next big thing then I am a lazy schlep muddling my way through life one lack lustre day at a time. And I just don't think that's true. Not for me. Not for my family. Not for anybody. Because if I share a joke with someone over text message or meet up with an old friend for beer and chicken wings or if I watch Ruby show me how she learned the first step of a backwards walkover at gymnastics camp today then I am living a rich life. A life that is the product of my decisions. Sure I won't see it glamorized on a larger than life poster as I walk through the mall on the way to the subway but if I fail to see it at all, or worse: if I abdicate the responsibility of acknowledging the richness of my life in favour of perseverating on deficiencies, real or unreal… well then that's on me.
While we were traveling, we talked a lot about how fortunate we were to be wherever we were. It was a lens that we used constantly to look at the amazing things we were seeing and doing. And it was so easy to see through because everything felt special. My fear now is that, as we return to a routine and often predictable stage of family life, that easily observable sense of good fortune becomes a lens that we forget how to use.
I don't know how to combat this mental atrophy. I know that I learned a few things about Buddhism while traveling and that I need to make space in my life for some kind of mindfulness practice. I know that I need to be in the moment when Arden wants to show me how long she can hold her breath in the bath. Again. Still 16 seconds. Just like two nights ago. And I know that I am looking forward to the eclipse on August 21. It's a great example of a historical, mystical, very hard to fathom the totality of, rare life event that, I imagine when it's over, will leave me wondering if I ever witnessed it at all.
3 Ginger Snaps 