abigail414's diaryland diary



When I was held up at gunpoint a couple years ago, I thought I might die, and was overcome with a wave of disappointment that I hadn�t yet been content.

I think that if your dying thought is about something you haven�t done, and you get to live, that means you ought to do it. And, for a couple weeks thereafter, I did. Since then, I have had moments - like my last real vacation in Sonoma, or when Nelly runs at me with her tennis ball, or when HB spoons me like I�m precious, or when I jump naked into the pool on a hot day. But, most of the time, I�m striving, chafing, scattered, trying to get something done so I can be � what?

Recently, my therapist shared this book that assigns a playing card based on your birthdate. It sounded so absurd, and �seven of diamonds� had nothing to do with me. But, he read HB�s, and I found it uncannily accurate. It seemed odd that the cards would be so inaccurate about me and so accurate about him. Later, when my mind was more open, I read about the card � which described a person who sees the spiritual in everything, is in awe at the splendor of the world, is magically provided for if walking the spiritual path, and whose goal is to be content.

This was reminiscent of my �number� in the Enneagram, which I explored a few years ago. There I am also a seven; someone whose basic nature is an �enthusiast� and is enthralled by the wonders of life as well as day to day experiences, and is aware that physical reality is spiritual. There is a lot of gratitude involved in being a seven.

Now, I feel anything but spiritual or magical or content or grateful as I struggle in my job, deal with having not paid my electric bill so had it shut off (yes, that happened and wow do I appreciate electricity now), being delinquent in my property taxes, and unable to afford to take time off for a vacation, much less pay for one. Plus, my skin is falling apart in the desert, I have a long-distance relationship that leaves me hungry, and I�m a lousy golfer. This fits with the sevens� problems when focused on the material world, and when functioning at an unhealthy level.

I forget about the ecstatic epiphany I felt on my first skydive, and that I talked to trees as a child, believed in fairies and reincarnation as early as 6 years old, found a husband with a Wiccan love spell, and got into vet school and this job with clear assistance from the divine and my dead father. And, in spite of all my medical training, I still do believe there is a guiding hand in the universe � the form doesn�t matter to me, the fact that it exists does.

I�ve been cleaning things out in anticipation of my roommate�s arrival next week (more to follow later), and stumbled upon half a dozen photos from my early marriage with Mike. I thought I�d sent them all back to him, and they caught me by surprise. They were taken before we had hurt each other, and we looked so hopeful and happy and content. The opening photo was taken on one of our many beach vacations on Lake Michigan and the closing photo is from camping along the lake. I stared at them and started sobbing that I hadn�t been content even with all that � the minivan, the dog, the happy handsome guy, the cute kid, and the beach vacations. Maybe there were moments, but overall, my discontent played a role in the demise of that marriage.

So what now? How to avoid looking back on this sunny Sunday and wonder why I wasn�t content in Palm Springs, California? No simple answer. But I�m starting to remember what the question was. And, it�s time to do my holy laundry, grateful to have water, electricity and clothes to wear.

4:37 p.m. - 2008-06-22


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