The preciousness of sharing

I stood up at a workshop last weekend when asked to tell the people in the room something they don't know about me and said as a twin married to a twin (that wasn't news to some), I don't always like sharing. The person behind me whispered, "Interesting for someone who blogs."

That wasn't the kind of sharing I consciously meant. I was thinking about always splitting a room, a birthday, parents, milestones. Deep down, I think I've regularly pined for something of my own. To be recognized as a single, not just "one of the twins" or Mrs. Barney (it still sounds like someone is referring to my beloved mother-in-law), Autumn's mom or Mary Lou's daughter. Just me. Cathy.

And, as I mentioned I the last post, I do feel on the precipice of change, a place that leaves room for introspection and distance in the awareness alone. [There's that word again, alone. As mildly introverted, I require and relish time to myself to recharge.] I have this detachment that allows me to be more objective than usual and accept the present with less resistance and more gratitude than I typically muster.

Driving home along Route 50 late yesterday afternoon, somewhere between Mariemont and Terrace Park (I couldn't say exactly where as I was daydreaming), the leafiness, bright sky and full clouds reminded me that THIS, now, is the best time of my life.

I know who I am.
I have stability, yet flexibility.
I am beginning to know my children as people.
I have a loving spouse who – mostly – gets me and, at the least, lets me be who I am.
My parents are healthy and enjoying life.
My sisters are in good places.
I am pursuing my dream.
I am constantly creating.
My husband and daughters are, too, so we understand each other.
I don't feel so alone; I know God is within.
I am healing and tapping into new power.
I have wonderful friends – old and new.
I have a spiritual home I adore.
I have a physical home that's my oasis and a studio that's my sanctuary.

In making that list, I realize that the meaning in life comes from sharing. We aren't meant to exclusively be alone. Not one item on the list has happened just because of me or my efforts. They all have occurred in community or because of the support of family and friends. I don't always see it that way, but I do now.

When I felt very alone last year in the midst of bustling Florence, overwhelmingly beautiful art, little English and sparse companionship, I wondered if something has to be experienced with another to have true meaning. Like the premise that if a tree falls in the woods and there's no being to hear it, is there sound? Maybe not quite, but sharing – whether with Spirit, human or animal – adds depth, dimension and a preciousness that being alone lacks.


• How do I feel about sharing?
• What rewards has it brought?
• What challenges?
• What would my life look like, feel like without the imprint of others?
• How does sharing add meaning to me, my life?


three bedrooms
two-and-a-half baths
living room
dining room
kitchen
basement
a husband
two daughters
two cats


and myself


it sometimes
seems
way too
full


like I can't
breath or
think


and, so
I escape
to my
studio
in the
detached
garage


where I
detach


I often
think
I could
live there


indefinitely


and, then
inspiration
strikes


words
form
a poem

or 


the chalk
creates
beauty


and I rush
out
to the 
too-full
house


to tell
somebody
of
my discovery


because
I have to


because
it means
more
to
share


because
it
acknowledges
my
existence