Journey of Harmony (and more specifically, balance)

I really envy those who have the ability to live in the moment.

I'm an introverted intuitive, which basically means that I spend my entire life inside my head, trying to synthesize enormous amounts of emotional information into some kind of meaningful understanding of the universe. More or less. In a nutshell. Most of what I blog about here is complete and utter escapism for me...it's me learning how to enjoy the simple things and be a little frivolous. It's me taking a break from my latest existential crisis and recapturing the wonder of finger painting with my kids (sans psychological art analysis and deep symbolism).

I desperately wish I could escape my own head sometimes. I wish I could halt all forward-thinking and connective reasoning and search for meaning until further notice, and just breathe the air sometimes. I'd get "gone fishing" tattooed on my forehead, if I thought it would help. ;oP

Fortunately for me, I'm married to a very NOT INFJ, and have children who not only live in the

moment, but do it with zest and gusto. They teach me so very much, it humbles my heart until I literally want to drop, knees to the ground with gratitude. If not for them, I'd probably spend every car ride in the country with my nose deep in a depressing book, or miss the gorgeous blue butterfly on the window screen, or continue wolfing my food down without savoring the goodness of it.

There is beauty to be had in the present. Perhaps the greatest wisdom is already possessed by the people who don't break their heads trying to figure out all the deep, unfathomable things, and who marvel at the echoes of truth in the grass under their toes and the breeze on their

eyelashes. My soul aches for that ability, even if it's not my primary calling or purpose. I think my life's journey, somewhere near the end (hopefully, while I'm dandling round cheeked grandchildren on my knees), will unfold the ability to not race ahead so much, trying to fix things and understand their complexities completely. Perhaps that will be late life's gift to me.

For now, I start with sitting in bed with my children, and laughing with them. With sitting down

and eating my food, thinking about how it tastes without trying to cram in another "time-saving" activity. By letting myself enjoy a rousing game of thumb war. By sometimes enjoying a non-meaningful conversation with a friend. By petting my cat. You know. The good stuff.