How many of us live lives of the utmost clarity? That is an admirable state of being. I think that is one reason I have never fit in anywhere easily. The introvert in me would always choose the innermost way of being in this cracked and crazy world. I know how to drive the car of myself down the long quiet highway, which happens to be the title of one of Natalie Goldberg’s books.
At times I have been forced onto the highway by virtue of being a caregiver. I learned many lessons while I was putting mileage on my car. I learned to drive slowly and remember that I was the driver and not the car. I learned that speeding is counterproductive and that it doesn’t matter what your car looks like. It is what drives it that matters.
Learning to be comfortable with saying no has been a long stretch of the road. Learning that I don’t have to pick up hitchhikers or drive carpool. What a frickin’ relief that lesson was. I can just climb into the driver’s seat and ease into Drive, all alone watching the ribbon of time unspool ahead of me.
I have just ordered a few new things for my house. Been there over thirty years now. It’s cedar and is now canopied by old trees. There are sliding doors and a full-length deck and lots of space. I don’t even have to get the car out of the driveway unless I want to. I take daily walks and sit in silence for a part of each day. Oh, I have my junky times, too, believe me. I watch TV in the evening and like to go to T. J. Maxx on Sunday mornings and root around, bringing home chocolates or other miscellany.
But more and more I see that I am not my house or car or my thoughts or feelings. Clarity is knowing that. The utmost clarity is coming home to who you really are.