Today, though, I gave the blog address to a new friend, and just this minute I took a look at the blog and read the last few posts to see what she was going to see when she looked it up. And damn, I sure do complain a lot.
Because there are certainly lovely moments. There are transcendent moments. Moments when the light comes in all soft around the edges. Another blog I won't post a link to writes about exactly those moments, and I will admit that when I took a look at it (having been directed there by its being voted one of the top 50 mom blogs on Babble) I almost laughed. Yes, it's sweet, and grateful, and celebratory of life. But it also seemed like a bunch of crap to me, somehow. Not that I believe the blogger doesn't experience things in that light, (though, does she, really?) but why do other people want to read about it? I don't know... I feel like the transcendent moments are more private. The crappy ones are the ones you need company for. They're the ones we need to share so we don't feel so alone in our frustrations. Hence this blog.
However. One might argue that it's good to fine tune the focus on those sweet moments, let our eyes go lazy and our gaze drift on the more challenging ones. That would be nice. An nice way to live, to pay more attention to the laughing than to the yelling. Okay, perhaps I could use more of that.
Yet it's the challenging moments that call us, that ask of us the most that we have, ask us to look hard at the things that need seeing. Isn't there some danger to putting them aside? We can't live our lives in soft focus. (And who knows, maybe she doesn't. Maybe she just wants to capture those moments in the blog. Yet I have to ask: why? Why do you want to share them? Is it a kind of art? Capturing the sweet? The dainty? What about the powerful? No judgement, though.) It is a spiritual journey, after all. It's also a nerve-fraying-screaming-and-petrified-cheese-under-the-carseat journey, which makes us forget it's a spiritual journey. Perhaps we could remember if we could hear ourselves think.
Or maybe the moments that try us are just more interesting. They show us our mettle.
My new camera is lovely. Here is its rendition of JOY, or what we did Saturday morning:
And here's LOVE:
This is Leo. He lives across the street. He and Frances love each other. Love. Like the real, true, affectionate, whole kind. He's moving away at christmas, and my heart will break for her. For now, though, here they are. Happy.