The road to us

At first I thought it was just garden-variety midlife confusion: that sentiment that comes over many of us as our children leave home and we lift our heads and look around.

As it turns out, I look around and what I see is not something unknown or unwanted. What I see is space: blurry, unfocused, slightly askew, slightly cluttered but nonetheless welcoming and — below it all — still as joyous as when our child lived at home. Like the memory of joy: not quite there, but close.

This past month, I have talked with several friends about this. People of all ages, nationalities, walks of life. And it is becoming clear to me that this is a global phenomenon, not a midlife crisis. We all are lifting our heads and looking around, as if after a trance. We all have this sense that something is slightly off. There is spaciousness but also stuff that needs clearing out, stuff that needs a bit of sharpening, work to do. We all know we have the skills to do it.

I think of this on many mornings as I sit in stillness and let silence wash over me.

It’s like cleaning up any space. When I haven’t tidied up at home for a while, it takes time. I pick up each thing and sometimes I have to stand with it for a while, before I remember where it goes.

I think of the world like that. Maybe we have forgotten where empathy goes. Maybe we no longer remember what to do with joy. Or with anger or pain. But we know it, deep in our bones. We just have to hold it for a bit. And then place the pieces where they belong, one by one, creating the world that’s almost there, right under the greed and confusion we have buried it in.

We can do this. This is the road to us.