Direction
- Meighan Leibert
- Jun 30, 2020
- 4 min read
It looks so lazy, my not getting out of bed today.
When we no longer know what to do where do we go? What happens exactly?
It looks like a day for binge watching TV with butter, the personal indulgence feels necessary.
I am tired, this is challenging to admit. I can feel myself operate in bursts and in between I just go numb.
It looks like I need a plan or a solution. Can I lean on uncertainty?
What is important? What matters most?
It looks like my daughter thanking me for the ride to Target, in advance, for fear I will forget or renege.
Unfamiliar is hard, this need to 'buck up' can feel exhausting. I am seeking distraction so I can pivot my focus.
It looks like my son texting me from the dentist chair "I have a cavity."
She has a keen sense about her, reading my body language, filled with anticipation, just waiting for my fingers to grasp the doorknob, eager for her walk.
It looks like 5000 pellets escaped the container, tiny little green plastic beads. My son's handiwork. He was paralyzed in wonder, or was it dread? So we laughed.
I am growing piles of unread books and magazine articles. Stacking the stuff that will make me smarter, grow me intelligent, make me interesting, offer enjoyment, expand my interests.
It looks like I bake, to bake, then bake some more.
My mom has a new system, she places the reading material throughout her home, in different spots, offering opportunity everywhere. Maybe I could try that.
It looks like I lost something. How did I do it? My fun, my relax, my creative, when did it die exactly?
I have a vision for a painting, inspired by these words: "I see his blue tunic and wings spread wide". I feel myself wrapped in those wings, a feathered embrace that offers tenderness and protection.
It looks like I am full of shit. I didn't lose anything, so why do I think that? It didn't die, it just went into hiding or it fell asleep.
I asked her to tell me what matters most and she let me know that her friends are really important. First, I am so happy she answered my question. Second, I am delighted she has friends.
It looks like my brother researched our name. In the Middle Ages LEIBERT was an occupational name for baker (HA!). And our dad (Michael Leibert) is listed as a contemporary notable post 1700. Now, of course, I want to be a notable.
My son has headaches. Too much screen time methinks.
It looks like making people do things is really hard. Just typing the sentence makes my stomach turn. Saying it out loud makes me barfy. Those are signs! My mom says my kids need more guidance. Do they? I hate feeling like I can't handle it or that I can't handle it, just to be clear. I am keenly aware that I may not know what IT is exactly. The unknown can be daunting.
I am dancing between guidance and control.
I envision myself getting really small, curling up, almost crumpled. Exhausted from the trying.
It looks like a friend said to me recently "You are purpose".
I also see myself growing tall, expanding, spreading wings and preparing for flight. I embody magnificence as I initiate adventure. I am no longer held to a formula of function. I am not confined by mundane or crowded with limitation. I am surrounded by possibility, it is everywhere, naturally. Doors just keep opening, there is a flowing abundance. It is not material per se, just moments of full awareness that feel like an enveloping song. Lyrics of laughter, a delicious scent as I pass by a flower, a pleasant surprise as a friend arrives with dinner, a great story from a five year old, a simple thought arriving unexpectedly, the ease in quiet, the comfort of a cuddle, the flavor of a wild berry, the warmth of the sun, the thrill of a kite in flight or the tickle of grass under bare toes.
It looks like we have so much already.
I prefer this place, where magic resides. The pace is comfortable, it allows my breath to deepen and slow.
It looks like I remember a time when my kids would just 'go for it', abandon themselves to whimsy. Following a deer through the woods, losing track of time, stomping in the mud, running fast and far- bumbling with giggles - going nowhere, eating all the ice cream so they didn't have to put it back, deciding to sell their art work in our driveway to passersby, my son wanting to dress up as a princess for Halloween and joining a four year old tea party next door, my daughter wishing to be magic.
Finally released. Deeply surrendered.
It looks like my imagination is what matters most! If I can dream it then I can grow it.
There are larger powers at work here and I will do well to trust them. Listen. Feel. Follow your heart.

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