A Matter of Choice

My grandson turns one today, and it has been a blessed (if exhausting) year for all of us. I know we’ve welcomed him into the world with exquisite attention and soul-deep love. I’ve been so fortunate to be able to care for him two days a week, witnessing the rapid changes over the past year.

He is now crawling at light speed and focused on climbing anything that will help him stand up. My sole purpose at the moment, in his view, is to help him scale upwards as he reaches for everything that he is not supposed to touch. Case in point, as I watch him reaching for my cute and very attractive penguin teacup. (Note to self – make your tea in a less interesting cup next time.) His fingers reach, stretching, stretching, so close!

I’m forced to employ the Stern Grandma Voice.

“No.”

His golden-brown eyes stare at me, evaluating my level of seriousness. I frown and shake my head from side to side. His fingers relax, then creep forward slightly.

Again, I shake my head.

“No.”

This time, he imitates me, shaking his head side to side with what he thinks is a frown. I strain not to laugh at how cute he is. After all, this is supposed to be a lesson in boundaries and safety. I pull out two other toys and say, “Make another choice.”

A moment passes. Then, he withdraws his hand and looks at the penguin tea cup as if to say, “I’ll be back.”  He crawls over to the toy that makes the most noise and can be banged around. He’s made his choice.

And so, it begins—a lifelong journey of choices.

Each day, we make choices that lead to more choices, creating our life’s journey. Choices that assemble the pieces of who we are through a vast array of experiences.

Some choices are easy. Others take more care and thought. Still others are impossibly hard. A few may be intentional, but many are unconscious. All of which have ramifications that we learn to live with.

The country made a choice on Nov. 5^th. A choice that hurts my soul.

Now, I sit in my own place of choice, knowing, as hard as it may be, that I need to accept this result as reality. And from this place of choice, what am I going to do?

First, I left all my yard signs up, and now neighbors are stopping by to share their grief and dismay.

I’ve chosen to sit with my coaching clients and listen deeply, continuing a practice that I love, knowing there is impact and value in what I do.

I’ve chosen to take care of myself, turning off social media and most news. Practicing breathwork and sound healing, reading, exercising, and protecting my soul. I know I will reengage. I’m just not ready yet. Healing and acceptance take time. And that’s my conscious choice.

Just as it’s my choice to make another cup of tea in a less interesting tea cup that my grandson still wants to touch . . . and so the lesson of choice continues.