On Gratitude and Ambition
Yesterday, I awoke thinking I was somewhere else entirely. I had stayed up a little too late finishing a great novel, and was obviously still mentally hungover from being utterly transported by a beautiful book.
These little flashes of escapism kept hitting me over and over again throughout my morning - the scent of that coffee date in Florence, pulling on that sweater I wore for a walk through Paris, a spoonful of the Bircher muesli from Zurich.
When life’s pressures mount, my coping mechanism is to live in the fantasy lands that I create my head, slipping a little to easily into the more pleasurable memories, real or imagined, that I’ve stored away.
In my little mind, I sip hot espresso instead of cold coffee, listen to waves crashing on the shore instead of the world’s unbearable news, and imagining a peaceful morning with no responsibilities. I get kisses and adoration, not boogers and demands.
In real time, I pick up dog shit at 6:30am and pack limp school lunches for my kids while I wonder if the world will be here for them when they grow up.
Experiencing these fantasies isn’t me wishing for another life. No, they are quick dopamine hits and minor interruptions during my mundane and lovely life, little bursts of gratitude for what is, and reminders of the things that bring me joy. To be clear, I am grateful to even get to pack a lunch and send my kids to school (us pandemic moms will never, ever forget when we couldn’t do that!!!).
The gratitude I feel for What Is and the guttural desire for What Could Be sometimes feel at war with one another, day in, day out. How can I balance the delights of the present with the anticipation of what’s to come, or even the ambition for what I want my life to continue to be. I’ve always thought contentment meant settling, and while I have slowly come to learn that isn’t true, I have yet to unravel that philosophical mystery. Do you think about this at all or am I batshit? Don’t answer that.
I have to believe that gratitude and the thrill of ambition can be held simultaneously, that they are not mutually exclusive. It’s about being thankful for the life I’ve had the fortune of building *and* luxuriating in the anticipation of holiday parties and quality family time, or a full recovery and a meaningful second career.
I can practice gratitude for low-key nights while looking forward to sweaty kitchen parties. When the kids whine about the rain, I remind them it’s just more protection against late-summer’s inevitable wildfires…and I can say that while still craving the heat of the sun on my neck. I smile with satisfaction as I cross off little house projects and still yearn to throw the hammer through a window and escape to some part of the world I've never seen. Desire, want, ambition…they all drive me. I don’t know if I could truly feel all encompassing gratitude without acknowledging there is more to do, feel, see. Conversely, I don’t think the fruits of ambition feels as satisfying, fulfilling, or authentic without truly acknowledging gratitude, living a life of gratitude, really, for what has guided me to this very moment.
To keep trudging along during this messy, often thankless life as a mother, woman, human, to get up and face another groundhog day of dishes and chauffeuring and chin hairs and conflict, in order to have some semblance of consistent inconsistency and not descend into the doom-scrolling induced cynicism, or fully fly off into a hopeless escapist's daydream, these two ideas, gratitude and ambition, must be gently and nimbly held together.