This is 40: On Arriving

Contemplation:

What helps you arrive in this moment and feel at home?

How do you hold all the things in your life at once?

**

Today is my 40th birthday.

I wanted today to be quiet.

There is not much quiet in my life these days—the last six months have been a blur. Last I wrote, the year of the Fire Horse had just begun and I have been riding through a blazing fire since, holding on for dear life.

My life these last few months has been shaped by sudden arrivals and departures and sitting in discomfort in the in-between:

In January, a friend moved to Malaysia and needed to find a new home for her two dogs, Kiko and Pepper. We said yes, with excited hesitation and trepidation about how our cats would respond.

In February, someone who took advantage of my goodwill and love reached back out to make amends. I said yes with conditions and boundaries and opened the door to repair, even though I am still waiting for those to be met.

In March, two boys we have been watching for short bursts last year needed a new placement in the foster care system. We said yes to long-term care, to our version of a family and our life as we knew it has radically changed.

In April, some local friends encouraged me to apply to be the county’s Poet Laureate. I said yes with not much expectation, only to be pleasantly surprised that the committee also said yes to me. I also said yes to deepening my spiritual path, and officially shared my aspiration to be ordained in the Plum Village Buddhist tradition.

In May, an abrupt, but also not surprising rupture with a longtime friend occurred. And instead of reaching and grasping like I have done in the past to hold onto this relationship, I let go of a friendship that no longer served me.

This morning, after getting the boys ready for school and feeding all the animals, I sat and prayed for clarity, to be guided on my continued path, to have enough space in my life so I can invite gratitude, play, joy and love in, even in moments of challenge.

As I sat on my maroon cushion, my mind raced. It was hard to let the many, many, many to-do lists go. But in that instant, instead of forcing myself to clear my mind, I dropped my tight shoulders, closed my eyes and with a deep breath, gave myself the permission to let my mind rest.

And then the quiet came.

My body relaxed and when the bell sounded on my meditation timer, I opened my eyes and saw the beautiful light streaming through the trees, surrounding Thầy1. And I remembered in that moment how quiet exists amidst the noise, how peace exists amidst the chaos, how light exists amidst the darkness.

It’s not so much that it can exist; it’s that it already does. Everything is there, waiting for us to see it, witness it, feel it.

That has been my biggest learning, and something I am continually remembering every day as I navigate meltdowns, farts, ambiguous grief, giggle fits, muddy paws, cuddles, deadlines, ambitions, disappointments, perceived failures, re-parenting, new schedules, control issues, weaponized responses — and practicing acceptance and letting go. Over and over and over again.

This practice of holding to it all can be a lot. So how do we do it? Is it even possible? Once in junior high, I remember reading a quote from Oprah inside a Redbook while I waited for my mom at the dentist and she said, “You can have it all, just not all at once.”

My life, whether intentionally or not, these past six months has made me question if that is true.

This past Saturday, my incredible wife threw me the most amazing birthday celebration I could have asked for. Somehow throughout the afternoon and evening, we celebrated all the parts of me — from my love of the X-Files and poetry to ringing the bell to call us into presence.

Friends, chosen family really, from all parts of my life came out to celebrate 40 years with me. What a gift it was to have everyone together — a physical representation of the accumulation of my life was there, present, in human form, all talking, eating cake, watching the World Cup. What a gift to be so loved and cherished.

As new (foster) parents, we struggled with whether we should bring the boys. We weren’t sure if it would be more easeful to have a different care plan for them instead of bringing them with us to the city.

Jess let me decide, and I ultimately chose to bring them, to be with the rest of my people, because no matter how long they are with us, they are a part of us now. They have forever changed the alchemy of who I am. And it made sense for my chosen family to see the new members of my chosen family.

Having them there was the embodiment of holding everything together at once — having my friends see this side of me as a parent, having them see how so many sides of me are alive in a singular moment. That was special, meaningful in a deeply healing way.

They went back to the hotel with Jess’ mom and we stayed out and danced the night away, as the city erupted celebrating the historic Knicks win. As we walked back to the hotel, sweaty from dancing to Kylie Minogue and raspy from singing to Celine Dion, we returned to a quiet hotel room with two sleepy boys as New York City literally lit up with collective effervescence. It was again, to me, the perfect example of everything happening everywhere, all at once.

So, dare I say it, maybe Oprah was wrong. Maybe the question isn’t whether or not we can have it all at once. Maybe the question is how do we hold everything at once? Even when we feel like it’s not possible? Even when things are competing for our attention? Even when the emotions that are arising are at odds with each other?

In Buddhism, this is the practice of equanimity — one of the key heart practices. In fact, in many traditions, it is understood to be the foundation of the other practices (the Brahmaviharas), the bedrock.

Equanimity is interpreted in many different ways: balance, calm, solidity. But I continue to resonate with Zen Master Thích Nhất Hạnh’s definition. He speaks about how equanimity is really a practice, at its core, of inclusivity.

That word, I’m sure if you’re like me, brings up a lot of “woke” ideas and might take you down a DEI spiral. And yes, that’s true, and all vital, especially in the world we live in that is filled with so much hatred, bias, violent targeting and marginalization, genocide and war.

But what I am talking about today, in this moment, on my birthday, is the practice of letting all the things exist together and still being able to be grounded and rooted in the present moment and in oneself. To go through the ups and downs (or the eight worldly winds) and remember that everything, including suffering, is impermanent, to remember that the work of our lifetime is not to look or work on being better but it is actually just to come home to oneself.

It is to remember that the most important arrival is in this moment, in the here and now. That no matter what is swirling, what is happening in and around you, that all of it is present in you.

And that you’ll be ok. With a little (or a lot) of practice and love, just remember, like I have today that perhaps one of the deepest truths we can hold is that in every moment, we can arrive. Over and over again.

And on this 40th birthday, I am grateful to know that I have arrived. And I am home.

**

Contemplation:

What helps you arrive in this moment and feel at home?

How do you hold all the things in your life at once?

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