After a fun-filled finish to the Christmas holidays, I was driving home from the airport – sun shining, U2 cranked. I was excited to be home, and looking forward to a busy, prosperous new year. I took my eyes off the road for a split second and suddenly, it was as if I was watching my life through a GoPro camera... and not in a good way.
As my car left the road there was an almost calming effect that took over. I knew I just had to go with it. Life went into slow motion. Then everything stopped.
I walked away from that accident with minor injuries, and a firm belief that someone was there with me.
In the days following, recovering from a concussion, I was told to remain quiet, to rest in a dark or dim room – no TV, no computer, no talking. For those who know me, 'quiet' is not who I am. I am the extrovert who loves to be around people, to talk, to tell stories, to laugh, and to live life with zest and passion. I tend to run, in fact I'm probably talking while running. Forced to lie in yoga-like stillness, my thoughts were spinning like a reel to reel, the accident playing over and over like a bad movie with a happy ending.
Needless to say, it has been a week of reflection.
I think we are all running – distracting ourselves with whatever vice keeps us from truly 'feeling'. Stop running, and we feel guilty for stopping. As parents and business people, we have to be seen as 'busy', in order to be viewed as successful. Our children have to be over-scheduled in order for us to be viewed as 'good' parents. But are we, in turn, just teaching them how to run?
When you are forced to stop, and be still, the important things in life quickly surface. After the uncomfortable feeling of stillness settles – there is order that happens on a heart-felt level, and everything else just fades away. All the 'I have to's' and the 'I should do's' take a backseat to 'just breathe'.
Zen by GoPro.
I am oddly thankful for my forced retreat. I feel grateful, revived/ and excited to start this new year. I have seen a strength in my children that was there all along. My sudden halt brought out the importance of life in their own little hearts.
My home has been my healing place. The saying 'Home is not a place, it is a feeling' has never rang so true. As a child, home was never about how much things cost, or how big the house was – it was always about the feeling it gave you. Creating that in my own home has always been paramount. In this big, busy world, I want my children to feel the sense of 'home'. Clean, crisp sheets, candles burning, dance parties in the living room, and nights around the dining room table complete with melt downs and who can burp the loudest – these are snippets of home and peace and love, that I hope will stick with them forever.
I know it's a lot to wish for, but I want HOME to feel like the safest place in the world – for my children, and for those less fortunate.
2015 took a turn for the crazy, but I am back on the road. And I've got work to do.
Meghan
