Ace, The Big E, and I traipsed over to our friends’ house New Year’s Eve and made sushi. (Lest you think I’ve completely lost my medical mind, let me assure you that I ate the slightly less raw fish.) We quarantined the five children in a separate room and indulged in adult conversation for over an hour.
One of the conversations revolved around what our intentions are for 2017. Not resolutions, but intentions.
2017 will likely be an interesting year. Change will undoubtedly occur. We’ll have countless opportunities to be better, kinder, more compassionate, calmer, more patient, and more loving.
There is a space between, the distance between an event (son makes snide remark, car pulls out in front of you on the freeway, dog pees all over his bed) and our response. In 2017, I intend to find that space and sit in it, set up a lawnchair on the sandy beach of it and calmly consider my options. Son makes a snide remark? I’ll open up my sunbrella, lean back, and reflect. Ahhh… I can safely ignore him without turning him into a snotty entitled brat.
Prince gave his final Minnesota solo performance last winter. A man, a purple piano, and his singular talent. During the intimate performance, he reflected on his art. “The space in between the notes… mmm… that’s the good part.”
In 2017, I’m seeking that space in between. If you get there first, send up a flare.