Blessed and Bereft

I’ve been trying to formulate how at the same time I feel blessed and bereft.  Such riches in this world, at every turn!  But always the necessity of choosing some, and so not having others. 

Either walking to the beach, or lying by the fire.  Sitting meditatively alone, or giving that time to my husband.  Watching shore birds, or being charmed again by A Christmas Carol.  Buying ono (my favorite fish from Hawai’i) or steelhead trout (my favorite new discovery).  Travelling, or settling at home.  Making lavender white tea, or melon oolong.  Writing about the cathedral close in Durham, near Hadrian’s wall, or about the walled Medieval town in Mallorca.  Visiting which?

In every acceptance, rejection.  My heart both full and broken, all at once.

Is this sorrow at all the lost things human nature, or just mine, a Gemini with double everybody else’s yearnings?  I’ve always thought it was a sign that I was premature, a baby impatient beyond waiting to jump headlong into life; and yet I dawdle, poke along, reluctant half the time to move.

I think there’s no answer or cure for this.  Loving it all.  Should I learn to discriminate?  Love some things less?  Have just one preference, one way I like to go?  Every fiber of me says no—I can’t love anything less!  Can’t give up wanting everything; luxuriating in the daily embarrassment of riches in which loss is after all one of the most valuable treasures.

image:  She Who Is