The best laid schemes of mice and (wo)men
Well, it was bound to happen one day. My birthday plans went awry yesterday as I got sick the night before and was sick all day on my birthday. That’s why nobody heard from me ~ why I never even turned on my computer. As Robert Burns reminded us back in 1786, the most carefully prepared plans may go wrong.*
But in going wrong, I was given a gift that I didn’t ask for, didn’t think I needed and for which I am now grateful. I was given a day of rest, of healing and of gratitude. By being forced to spend the day alone, I had plenty of time to reflect on life and count my blessings. Sure, I count my blessings everyday, don’t you? But I mean really count my blessings, count the blessings for the little things that we take for granted (like being able to eat), for a warm, loving home and for friends and family who care.
I won’t lie, at first I was lamenting my lack of birthday festivities, but then, when I allowed my life to flow and to unfold as it wanted, I came upon a knowing, a feeling of presence which was a present to me. I relaxed into the day, taking the time to heal myself (which only time could help as the virus had to run its course) and acknowledging that I had to once again, give up control, let go, allow God/Universe/Spirit to guide me.
It wasn’t easy. I had plans you know for my special day. But now I guess my birthday will have to be celebrated on another day this week, or maybe I can eek out a little bit of birthday mirth everyday! Oh! What an idea ~ what if I spent 10 minutes a day in birthday gratitude for the next year! What if we celebrated our birthdays all year long! Imagine, celebrating your life and having everyone else celebrating YOU everyday ~ and YOU celebrating everyone else everyday!
Now how’s that for a great Holiday?
My heartfelt gratitude to all of you for being here with me ~ I celebrate YOU!
*Origin: From Robert Burns’ poem To a Mouse, 1786. It tells of how he, while ploughing a field, upturned a mouse’s nest. The resulting poem is an apology to the mouse:
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane [you aren’t alone]
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry]
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promised joy.