Not being of any religious persuasion, I've never really felt compelled to wish someone a "blessed day" or to use the word blessing too often in describing my own life or someone else's situation. (Also, my mom would look at me like I had 3 heads if she heard me wishing someone a blessed day. She has a funny thing about it...)
The older I get, though...Between two of my best friends on this planet earth being devout and Christ-like Christians, my deep foray into the "Slumber Party Theology" (to crib a term Elizabeth Gilbert references in Eat, Pray, Love - which I'm falling back in love with, but that's another story) that is being a yogi in this day and time and place, and between my work and my life circumstances taking the direction that it has been taking...damn. I feel the need to throw myself on the floor in gratitude sometimes for how ever-lovingly blessed I feel. I feel the word cross my mind and on my lips more and more as the years go by.
Becoming a doula was really daunting, and I put off going down that road for a long time. It had been on my mind, and my mentor, Juliana, saw it in me and kept predicting that it would happen and urging me to do it. But it was too much time, I didn't have space for it, it was too scary, too real. And after the gracious and selfless and phenomenal work of my sister's two birth doulas helping to make A+Z's arrival the once-in-a-lifetime family event that it was for my sister and brother-in-law, after seeing the positive effect that having doula support had on their new family...
I only feel mildly self-conscious in using this term - I felt called to do it.
This past week, I attended my longest birth so far as a doula. It won't be the longest I ever attend. It had a lot of factors that made it new and exciting and unique and scary, and because I want my clients to trust my promise of confidentiality I won't go into great details. I will say that I felt such a deep connection with this couple that it was truly an honor to be there with them. I loved every minute of it, even the minutes fraught with uncertainty and fear and waiting waiting waiting. To be a part of their once-in-a-lifetime experience...I can't express my gratitude to have been able to have been a part and to have helped.
Sundays I usually like to have my whole day open so I can do...whatever. My laundry. Watch Orange is the New Black until my eyeballs pop out of my head. Today, I took a class for myself, gave a Thai Yoga Massage, met with a new doula client and her husband, and attended the 3rd birthday party of a wonderful little boy I've known since he was...I don't even know - maybe 3 months old? My husband finally got to meet the beautiful community of Astoria moms and their kids that I've known through The Giving Tree Yoga Studio and loved for roughly 2.5 years, some of them when their babies were still in the belly.
The words "blessed," "grateful," "honored," "humbled" - a lot of them are overused, used for humble-bragging, for compliment-fishing, and because of that they're so often dismissed or used ironically. Lord knows I love mockery as much as the next guy. But I find sometimes it makes it difficult to truly express those pure feelings. Because it's naive? It makes people uncomfortable? It makes them roll their eyes and gag a little bit at the saccharine of it all? It shines a light on an element of their own life that maybe isn't going so great?
For better or for worse - the Internets are here to say. Good, bad, ugly - it all gets out there these days. We're the guardians of how much we share and how we share it. My life isn't perfect and it's not always sunshine and rainbows, but dammit - I just feel really, really, really, really blessed today. I could not love what I do more. As one of my heroes, Buddy the Elf would say, "I'm in love, I'm in love, and I don't care who knows it!"
And to make up for all the joy, if it's too much for your modern sensibilities - a great NYTimes article on the use and abuse of #blessed on social media. Enjoy.
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