I spent a fantastic weekend with my partner and a good friend roadtripping to Seattle- It was ostensibly for The Ken to run the RocknRoll 1/2 Marathon, but I also needed to have blood work done, pick up my meds, AND it was Pride week in Seattle. So much to accomplish and so many cool and remarkable things happened on the trip that I found myself wishing- mostly about writing.
“I wish I had a smartphone and could blog on the bus, or update my Facebook.” “I wish I could express exactly how I felt in the moment of seeing Ken’s face as he rounded the last bend to finish the race.” “I wish I had the nerve to describe in detail all the rotten emotions I feel when I see a bunch of carefree half (or 3/4) naked boys running around like life’s one big carefree frickin’ party.” “I wish I hadn’t run into that particular person at the Pride Festival.” “I wish I knew what to say when something goes wrong.” “I wish I had told my family and friends more often how important they are to me.” “I wish I was quicker with my words- that aging hadn’t slowed down my vocabulary.” “I wish I could make everything better all the time for everybody.” “I wish I wasn’t so bad at updating my blog.”
And so it goes.
I am actually quite happy in my life, and I don’t really spend that much time wishing for anything different, but last week, I did. After some thoughtful self-examination and a few walks with Curly, my spiritual director, I came to the conclusion that these wishes weren’t dissatisfaction, really. They were honest hopes and desires to more fully be me. They were conscious efforts to see and experience my life, my world and my people more honestly and accurately.
And it was also a great moral corrective to my sometimes gritty, sometimes cynical and often blunt assessment of reality.
It was a fantastic trip- exhausting, but fantastic. I saw people I loved; I was with Ken for 5 whole days at once (a record); I was useful; I was supportive; I had fun; I took care of myself and most of all, I questioned my perceptions. Not bad for a wisher.