…the name of my book no doubt, and the story of my life.
I live in a 3rd ring suburb of Minneapolis US, where hanging laundry on the line, and shopping for organics is….we’ll say…out of the ordinary. My home is on a wooded lot, and since I’ve lived here 18 years, very comfortable by my standards. By any standards really. And I work hard to walk my talk, to make ends meet, and sustain a meditative practice. But the culture we live, the communities we’ve created in this country anyway, seem to thwart efforts to make enlightened choices.
Life in this country has become a series of crazy-making observations. Why do multi national conglomerates care to own some of the, formerly anyway, best whole food options in the world? Why do clothing companies that offer organic fabrics have goods made in 3rd world countries by children? And why can’t the populous see that voting with their almighty dollar is really the only way a singular human can impact outcomes? It isn’t possible to reject the capitalistic world entirely but it’s a struggle to maintain any type of balance in it’s midst.
And then there are my own expectations.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve been an overachiever…super-wife, mom, teacher, daughter, artist. And now I’m trying to be a super single working mom of 3 kids.
I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m misunderstood in this culture…just have to search hard to find community. I remember being relieved when I was reminded that my community isn’t necessarily the folks next door, or the ones at the grocery store. Your community of people share your values and beliefs…those that don’t shop at WalMart, even though they sell organics.
This spiritual wandering isn’t an easy journey, but at least, long before I knew I had chosen the path less traveled, I had heard many times to turn back unless I was prepared for complete upheaval in my life. I often feel frustrated that the places I shop, my beliefs, my preferences in holistic care, composting my food scraps, avoiding salt on my driveway in the winter, etc., all require an explanation. And as my own kids lament that our family is “different”, I knew even as a child that I was marching to the beat of a different drummer.
But at the same time, it’s important to remember that we are all woven from the same cloth. Most of us struggle for balance in our lives, we toil for a better world, we all want some peace. The global village is not so large, and it needs the energy of each one of us to thrive.