Finding magic in the mundane

It was a Wednesday night… much like any Wednesday night, or any other night of the week for that matter.

These days it feels like my evenings are like the movie Groundhog's Day. Rather than having a wide open evening filled with endless options, the way it once was, my time is spent following the same exact bedtime routine night after night.

Finish dinner, transition to bath time, followed by some serious negotiation with my three-year-old to get out of the bath and into her jammies, while I pull out the baby and dress her for bed. Then get the baby to sleep, story time with the toddler and eventually the toddler to sleep. By the time the girls are cozy and down, my husband and I are completely spent.

And so it goes. Copy and paste from the night before.

Tonight, I was following the usual flow, physically present but mentally one or two steps ahead, anticipating what's next. I was tracking my internal clock by the minute, checking it against the actual clock to verify that we were on task. Not really present, if I'm being honest. 

My internal state was tuned to its "slightly rushed" mode.

And then, suddenly, as I was getting my toddler in her PJs, I found us locked into an intense scene. After a few cries for "help," I realized we were mid-role play and I had been assigned the hungry lion. In front of me was a life-sized corn on the cob, begging me not to take a bite out of her side. 

Being the aspiring actor that I am, I thought, now is my chance. The audition of a lifetime, in front of a fierce and truly filterless judge who could make Simon Cowell look like Mother Teresa.

I took a fake bite out of the corn's side, and belly laughter erupted. I didn't stand a chance against its contagion. I began laughing harder than I have in I don't even know how long.

The lion-versus-corn storyline continued, but in an unexpected turn of events, I was now the helpless corn being threatened by the lion's ferocious "ROARRR." I screamed for mercy. More belly laughter.

Next thing I know, my daughter is throwing her tiny arms around my neck and giving me a full-body squeeze, accompanied by the words: "I LOVE YOU." We paused in the most tender embrace. 

I felt my heartbeat quicken, realizing this was a physiological response to feeling the deepest kind of love. A feeling that is literally almost too big to be held in the body. I found myself suddenly fighting back a flood of tears.

I gulped down the lump in my throat and squeezed her back.

"I love you!" I replied, a little shakily.

"I'm going to give you a kiss!" She pressed her sweet little lips on my cheek.

I continued to imprint the moment into my memory.

In that moment, so many realizations hit me at once. This is life. This is the point of living. Feeling this unconditional kind of love.

This is the love you read about in books, that movies try to depict, that is woven into religious scriptures. The one true feeling that calls our very existence into being.

And here it was, surrounding me, in a moment created by my perfect baby girl.

I know I've been saying this on repeat lately, but the sentiment continues to be felt in my body in a deeper way as time goes on.

I'm experiencing how beautiful moments can be in my life, tucked away in small, unexpected pockets of time. They are there, in all their glory… everything I've always dreamed of, despite ongoing life stressors and the state of the world.

I'm anchoring to these moments of unconditional love, gratitude, and joy as much as I can. The more I allow in, the more they arrive.

These are undoubtedly the moments and days I will cherish forever.

Anchoring the light

There is a lot to be distracted by, worried over, and frankly traumatized by with everything happening around the world. While I'd never advocate for head-in-the-sand living, I find it of the utmost importance to protect mine and my family's peace as a priority.

Some of what we are seeing is undeniably designed to lower the density of the masses, to keep us in fear, compliant, and reliant on the powers that be.

As the chaos and noise intensifies, I have made it a point to put my phone down and engage in the real, tangible, felt sense of life with my loved ones.

Now more than ever, we need to anchor our light into our little patch of the earth to help heal and raise the collective vibration. 

We can be in our highest frequency by tending to our thoughts, inputs, interactions, and reactions. 

I'm not one to be preachy, but if nothing else, let this be a gentle reminder that it's okay to unplug and engage in the life in front of you. It will help keep your energy grounded and calm as these times intensify.