One day last fall, a stranger just happened to wander into the yoga studio and we ended up talking about all kinds of things, including writing. She asked me if I knew that Anne Lamott was speaking at the Lensic Theater that night and I said, "NO! I didn't!" I immediately called and got myself a ticket., If you ever have the chance to see/hear Anne Lamott in person don't miss it - she is funny and human and kind and passionate and down to earth. Did I mention funny?
The story she told that stuck with me the most had to do with a trip she took to India. With her guide, she took a boat ride down the Ganges River. It was extremely foggy - so foggy that they could see absolutely nothing, and then suddenly a huge statue would loom up beside them. Then just as suddenly, it would be devoured by the fog.
Anne's guide, feeling bad about the poor visibility, shook his head sadly and said,
She said that in that moment, she found his oddly-framed little comment to be unintentionally deep and meaningful. Sometimes life is just like that - too much the foggy. I feel that way a lot these days, as we try to navigate life transitions and change: the loss of both of my parents in the past two years; deciding to sell our house and try a new way of living (touring the country in an RV); waiting for the house to sell, getting our hopes up, getting disappointed; waiting to hear back from publishers about my book; hoping for the best, having faith that the best will happen, yet worried that it won't.
That reminds me of another other thing Anne Lamott said that night. She said, "I have a lot of faith, but I worry a lot." She is quite religious, so she recognizes that this statement is something of a contradiction. Yet it's so typical of her - utterly human and honest and real. I related to that sentence so much. I think that maybe when everything in life seems like it is too much the foggy, we have to cut ourselves a break and let it be okay to have faith but still worry.