Tuesday, May 29, 2012

and I'm a goddamn coward but then again so are you*

My girls are brave. Eager. Certain that every moment of every day holds a revelation, an opportunity to grow. As indeed it does hold for them.



Ilse rolls new tastes across her tongue, fully invested in what is means to eat a pea or the puree of sweet potato, or the smush of a cooked onion. She picks up each and every Cheereo within her reach, proud of her newfound ability to feed herself, screaching if you attempt to interfere with the honing of her skills. She's unconcerned that her audience has more practice than she.



Ilse works faithfully towards her pursuit of becoming functionally bipedal, pulling herself up to standing and setting one foot in front of the other again and again and again. She teeters, totters, and falls on her sweet cheeks (both sets) repeatedly every day but is not deterred; a quick peck from Daddy or Mama and she's off again, kitties to catch and an older sister to emulate.





Uli lists her numerous life goals with excitement and great sincerity: student (she looks forward equally to both elemantary school and university, and she was heartbroken to learn that Hogwarts isn't, in fact, a option), bus driver, grocer, mother, soccer player, cat owner, boy, artist, herpetologist, and Fastest Runner (or, alternatively, Bicyclist) In The World--she intends to explore all avenues.

Whenever we adults tell Uli a certain thing is not done, she asks why. And if our response is something to the tune of We Don't Know How, she, with the wisdom of a sage, says: "You could try and learn."




I watch my girls and am thrilled they thrive while dreaming big, grabbing goals (and cats), conquering what initially seems too difficult, moving constantly forward, expecting great things of themselves. They don't consider their current limits, they push themselves on to the next great idea, the new goal, the more difficult advance. And why shouldn't they. This is humanity's call. Their destiny.

Lately I've been asking myself when I stopped doing the same, striving as they do, conquering the difficult then moving on happily to the next challenge, my next Big Thing. I used to. But now, how often now do I test my own limits? When did I decide to accept my current status as my forever status?



Complacency. It may occasionally be viewed as a gift, granting peace and patience during dull times. It can also be a curse, extending the dullness, dissuading one from taking the leap into the unknown when it's time to do so.

Testing limits is uncomfortable. The first attempt can a rough one. Scary. But surely it is rewarding, one way or another (even in the form of a smackdown)?

Though I admit to some feelings of trepidation,  I'm now beginning to rethink my current Self. The routines to which I cling might soon be tossed out. The "facts" about my life are, in fact, merely labels and could be reworked.

It's all very vague, I know, and sometimes I'm frustrated that I can't go into more detail on this blog because my name is attached via search engine. But I'm hoping to share great things. Perhaps sooner than later.


*from The Lion's Roar, of the new-to-me Swedish duo First Aid Kit. So awesome. Go listen

1 comments:

Lauren @ Hobo Mama May 31, 2012 at 4:54 AM  

I love how you cast this vision of how our children view the world. It's so true. And your pictures let us into that vision — of living life with abandon.

I'm excited for your own changes. I'm happy you're feeling energized by whatever it is that's in store for you.

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