Cake by the Treadmill

A simple life. What in the world is that? I've read and heard admonishments about the need for it, all my adult life. But what is it and how do I get there? 

I think about when my universe was simple, though that's all relative. When I consider the buzzing that's always been inside my brain, it might just be impossible in this life. But there were those childhood summers where time stood still: the nights rich with fireflies, damp grass under our feet, cool baths before bed, nighttime prayers, goodnight kisses and simple dreams. Then early days of marriage and child-rearing, where my life revolved around feeding and cleaning sticky faces, bedtimes, reading by the fire and paying attention to when Daddy got home. My personal writing and reading were done in dashes of time tucked between naps and the next meal. We morphed into years of home schooling, always trying to figure out how to find balance in the huge responsibilities before us. As our fledglings began to leave the nest and I took on work to make ends meet, it got more complicated than ever. At least when our children were at home, I knew without a doubt what my priorities were. As things began to take me away from my beautiful nest, I wrestled with my priorities and the guilt of a complicated life. 

I know, deep down, that there's got to be a better way to manage these things. We live in a world that is rushing all the time. It's plumb crazy, how we're living now. I think back to my husband's grandparents and our visits to them, years ago. Upon arrival, there would be a meal on the table, comprised of leftovers from days past as well as new dishes prepared just for us. We would eat until we were stuffed, then clean up, sit around and talk. We'd walk around the yard, the menfolk would tinker or move something around. Before long, everything was brought back out, warmed up and started over. It was the same old cycle of meals, work and sleep that I experienced with my children. Time for serene talk, laughter, sustenance. You can get fat on that, if you don't have to work too hard for it. Our old folks had seen impossibly hard times in their lives. They scrimped, suffered and survived. Their golden years were spent in the calm wake of many storms. All they wanted for us was to have peace and everything they didn't have. I think they may have spoiled us a bit, thinking that an easier path might be a better path. But like a baby chick fighting its way out of its shell, I believe we just might have needed the trial, if we were going to appreciate the reward. 

If I had a dollar for every time I've heard this, I'd be rich: "In this day and time, a Mama can't stay home and raise her kids. It costs too much to live now." No, we just don't want to live simply. All our toys and trinkets have a price. I think we might be extracting more from our souls than our pocketbooks. And if it's not our trinkets, then maybe our problem is that we don't want to have to sit still and contemplate the deeper things that lurk in the corners. If we keep the treadmill moving, maybe we won't have to actually think. I'm guilty of filling up days with furious activity, hopping from one role to another. How much of it is necessary? Where are the spaces in there where serenity can be found, where the needs of a friend or a neighbor can be met without scheduling a seminar so we can have a sit-down? Saying no and removing activities works for awhile, then those spaces get filled with noble enterprises. Nobody wants to hear the word "no" and there's so much to be done. Or is there? I'm chewing on that. It sure seems like I have a lot of food and eating references in my brain. Maybe what I need to do is get my fat butt over to the gym, get on the treadmill and find myself some of that nebulous tranquility, endorphins and all that. Work off some of Grandmama's cakes that are still living on my hips. I'm sure she'd appreciate it.