Maybe...A Year in Review

by Mary Bowlby January 2, 2023

To set the vibe, I recommend Maybe This Time from Schitt's Creek.

To set the visual vibe, I recommend the above picture. It's me, in my first aware moments of glimmering.

To set the emotional vibe, join me through the following: Growing up, I liked to read stories that took you from the beginning, through to the very end, past the epilogue, so I could conclude that the characters did, indeed, have a happy ending. I did not like to finish anything with any questions. I did not welcome any wonder. I wanted to be taken on a complete, albeit simple, journey that followed the formula of "character introduction" -- "character development" -- "character chaos" -- "character joy" -- the end. Depth of emotional feeling? I'll take a pass. Option to live in the unknown or the "gray space" - not for me! Unresolved ending? Talk about torture. I wanted to know that the characters I was invested in (who did not exist in my physical reality - let us be clear) were fulfilled and happy. And my creative imagination did not want any room to assume that these deeply beloved characters may ever feel otherwise. You might imagine that the concept of "maybe" was foreign to me. And if you imagined that, well you are right. Without a concrete and specific ending, how could I know what was to occur? And if I felt this way about characters from books, the concept of maybe in my personal life was one of pure impossibility. It would not be a concept I acknowledged. It would not be a concept I embraced. It would not, did not, and could not exist in my reality. Until one day it did. And that one day is right now. This is the journey of life thus far with maybe.

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When I was little, I planned out certain parts of my life. More specifically, I planned out certain times of my life. What this means is that I decided I was going to reach happiness, and stay there, when I turned 26. So, imagine my surprise when I turned 26 and I didn't feel like how I imagined peak happiness felt. So, I did a bit of course correcting and adjusted my timeline. It would be 28 when I would achieve peak happiness and then I could coast, for all of my days, maintaining happiness and fulfillment. Surprise to probably no one else but me, 28 came and went, and that elusive peak happiness wasn't felt. Sure, I felt happy, but that "I've finally made it, the work is done, welcome ease!" feeling I was searching for was no where to be found. It took the 28 and 29 rotations around the sun to help me open my eyes that perhaps...my quest for peak happiness was a bit flawed. That maybe, there was some validity to the gray space or the in between where happiness and peak happiness both resided. I entertained that thought and I even welcomed the idea of throwing away the timeline. I was well past 26 and 28 at this point when I tossed the timeline away (it was the year I was turning 30), so what did it matter if I threw the timeline away? I hadn't reached it anyway, what harm could it do to let it sit in a trash can, discarded?

So, I tossed the timeline in the trash can as 2022 began, and I won't lie to you, I thought about the timeline sitting in the bottom of the trashcan for months. While yes, I had said "begone!" to the notion that I needed to feel and be a certain way by a certain time, I was still thinking how feeling and being would be so much easier if I had "achieved" my original timeline. So here I sat, in a thinking loop that continued to feed my tendency to overthink - all while ruminating on the idea of my "perfect" timeline that was festering in the bottom of the trashcan. Ew.

And then I turned 30. And I went on a spectacular adventure with my chosen family (see Every Moment Is Like The Sunrise) when a glimmer of "maybe I don't want that 'original' timeline because I don't think this moment would have been gifted to me there" flickered into my brain. And then, my beautiful business with Erin and Alicia had a weekend full of events where our hearts soared and our connections with others and ourselves grew so deep. And that glimmer returned, this time saying, "here feels really good." And then, I said yes to spontaneous opportunities and connection with family and loved ones. And that glimmer sparkled while I started to forget that I had ever been preoccupied with something in the trash can in the first place. And then I began my yoga teacher training journey, which opened me up and connected me in indescribable ways. And that glimmer moved in to my mind stating, "this, here, is right." The rest of 2022 included countless moments of my life, my current timeline, this, glimmering. There were breathtaking peaks and there were also core-of-the-Earth lows, but since that glimmer moved in, I haven't been preoccupied with the timeline I threw away in the trash can one year ago.

Yes, I still sometimes think of that timeline. I think of how foolish I was to demand something of my life before I let my life blossom in its current iteration. And then I remember, that blossoming can be scary when you've been in a bud for so long. I think about how I might have missed the 2022 glimmers if my life became that other timeline and I shudder thinking about not having those glimmers as beloved memories. And I think that, maybe, throwing that timeline away was one of the best things I did for myself in the year of 2022.

I used to hate the word "maybe" when I used it in conjunction with my life. Because if I was using the word "maybe" how could I be sure about the happy ending I so desired that could only be affirmed after the epilogue? How could I know what would occur if the word "maybe" existed in my vocabulary? And then I remembered the lyrics, sung so raw in the Schitt's Creek rendition, "it's gonna happen, happen sometime," and my distaste of maybe vanished. Because if I controlled the timeline, I wouldn't have had the glimmers. If I demanded my life blossom before it spent its time in a bud, it wouldn't be mine. And when I heard those lyrics, I knew them to be true, that those feelings of happiness are going to happen, and they're going to happen sometime, and the journey to them will be accompanied with the glimmers along the way. And that maybe, I don't need to rush the journey.

So, in 2023 I am happy to say that I have taken out the trash. There isn't anything festering in there any longer. And I'm welcoming moments that glimmer to always help remind me that it is going to happen sometime, and this time is right.