Bucket List – Creative Life Midwife

A bucket list on its side asks the question, "What to think about things that aren't on my bucket list?" and yet they may be significant growth experiences.

Today another item I never wanted to have on my bucket list will be quickly added and crossed off.

A needle will be inserted into my chest to withdraw fluid from a mass of unknown origin. I am hoping it is merely an infection. I am hoping it is not Valley fever. I am hoping it can be excised without much trouble. I am hoping.

What happens to items on our bucket list when the unexpected occurrences we never wanted to happen, happen:

I have not been writing much because having something frightening like this tends to silence my words. Even when I have a lot of stories to tell, the fear hovers. It gets stronger the longer I sit and stew even as I want to talk about it and process it with others.

I have wanted to toss it into conversations about completely unrelated topics even when it makes no sense at all.

A spirited discussion of a well written book is overcome by an avalanche of thought in my head that sounds like this: “what if this thing in my chest is cancer? What if this thing in my chest is a danger to my future? What if this thing in my chest is another chapter in my ‘so close but not quite’ which could very well be the title of the movie of my life.“

I miss the discussion that is actually happen and get caught up in my tangled thoughts.

The anti-bucket list item turns into a quickly turning road going nowhere particularly constructive.

I think of making a rag doll to sleep with, a toddler sized one with brown braided hair and blue eyes, a mini-me who might have matching heart scars to mine. Maybe we will both wind up with non-heart-shaped scars over our collective heart space. Maybe that would be cute and sweet and comforting.

This may be absolutely true and how constructive is this path? Creative output does heal – and is this something I really WANT to do with my time right now or is the idea comfort enough?

Maybe this twist in the bucket-list road would be better?

Last night I found myself lying in my bed in a cocoon of pillows like when I was in the hospital, valley fever no one knew I had, sepsis, organ failure, near death. Last night as I settled in the pillows helped it feel so much better than anything else has felt in a long time. It was cloud-like yet solid, so supported I wished I had someone there to read to me. A soothing voice to read from the novel I am reading or to read pages from the book of Julian of Norwich or perhaps even read about how to create supportive loving habits.

For now I don’t have anyone to do that but I do have the pillows. I can recreate soft holding support. Yes! Something I can actually do easily.

The end of the road leads to Ralph Waldo Emerson?

I am reminded of the message I meant to send today, the one inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

A curvy road is much like our concerns when we are facing the unknown. The quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson reminds us "Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year."

Today, even after all I have spoken I can still say I am waking up to the thoughts of Ralph Waldo Emerson, he who wrote “Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.”

You might be saying “This does not jive with what you wrote above this fold – you just said you aren’t familiar with the ‘not tragic’ and ‘I never wanted’ and ‘frightening’ how does this add up to “the best day in the year”?

Quite simple, actually.

I am alive. My heart is still beating. I am able to create as I want to create. I have clean water to drink. I have a future in the works. I smelled almond orchards in bloom last night. I walked this morning. I am writing now. I am able to say what I most want to say.

I am awake on this, the best day of my year so far. And tomorrow, I will live the best day of my year so far because I am choosing for that to be how and what it is.

What if every day was a bucket list celebration?

In the meantime, I will be thinking of some other word for “bucket list” because that is focused on death – kicking the bucket – and after two cancers, a couple valley fever episodes, sepsis, kidney failure – I am all about the living and loving and being with whatever is and choosing the best even when it looks like it completely sucks.

It isn’t about the lessons I am learning, it is about the breath I am breathing and the love I am knowing more deeply every single day.

Julie Jordan Scott is the Creator of the Radical Joy of Daily Consistency Course which helps people practice consistency and completion daily in order to experience a more incredible life experience. She also founded the free, private facebook community for writers and creative people at all levels of experience: the Word Love Writing Community. Join us!

Years ago I attended a conference where I heard Mark Victor Hansen of “Chicken Soup for the Soul” speak. He told us all to make a list of 100 Life Goals. I dutifully made a list. It wasn’t called a Bucket List then because the movie hadn’t been made yet.

This particular item was not on my list of 100 Goals.

I wasn’t expecting it to happen. I don’t know how I could have possibly planned for it.

I was mad, after all, very mad. Angry because the business, the service department where I had purchased my car, obviously didn’t care about its customers, how dare they endanger me. How dare they?

The gentleman told me the usual company line, “We can’t enforce, we can only request.”

I continued pacing and waited as he turned over the paperwork.

Look, this isn’t a joke. This is real.” I said.

“I don’t want to be person #220,000 or whatever the count is now. I’m high risk, I hardly go into any businesses for exactly this reason.”

He nodded and told me I could wait in the indoor waiting room – inside the stuffy, no-air-circulating temporary building or I could wait outside.

I motioned for the outdoor waiting area and added, “And I want to know where I can go next time to get my car serviced. I don’t want to come back here, to this place where people don’t take this seriously.”

I chose to wait outside, even with the temperature in the 90’s

and less than optimal air quality. At least I wasn’t risking my life in the short run. I wrote and I read. I calmed down.

I received a text message informing me I would get another text when my car service was complete and to text my service writer if I had any questions. The message was pleasant enough. I kept my head down and focused on anything but the sweat on my forehead.

The next time I looked up, I thought I saw my car parked and ready to go. I pulled out my phone and texted my service writer, “Is my car finished? I feel foolish because I don’t recognize it yet.” and added a smiley face.

“Yes,” texted the service writer. “I am just finishing the paper work,”

When he approached, he gave me a very thorough report on my car, like a pediatrician would give to a nervous mother. He added, “I also talked to my co-worker about what he did.” I nodded, trying not to be bitter. “He said he was hot…” and I shook my head and probably rolled my eyes.

“And…” he continued, “I wanted to let you know I take this very seriously.

“I take this seriously because… because I lost my brother.”

I looked across the table at him and heard a sound emanate from deep within my gut. “You lost your brother?” I asked, as if I hadn’t heard. “To covid?” His watering eyes and nodding head were met with my disbelief, including the ancient, universal language moan in disbelief. “Oh my God, I am so sorry I am so sorry.” I said as I cried.

We sat outside the service department as if we were in a bubble. I was sobbing, not worried about anyone hearing me say over and over again, “Oh my God, I am so sorry, I am so sorry.”

We had further conversation for only a few moments that felt like an eternity before he got up and went back to work.

He got up and went back to work.

I stayed in the same space, rocking slightly, like I would if I was comforting a baby, continuing to grieve for someone I never knew.

I eventually got up and started driving toward home, but I pulled over to sit, just sit. I received a text. “Thank you for the conversation.”

I cannot say I know why I am put into such situations though I will say I am grateful I was able to give someone space to speak and be heard.

What a risk he took to speak to me.

I am so grateful he took that risk. “I take this very seriously,” he said.

In those moments we became more than service writer to customer, we became fellow members of the human community. We became a place for sacred listening, a family of two.

Space was held for caring and empathy and grief.

My life will never be the same.

Julie JordanScott, the Creative Life Midwife, is a writer, a poet performer, a Creativity Coach, A Social Media Whiz and a Mother of three. One of her greatest joys include loving people into their greatness they just aren’t quite able to realize yet.

Julie is also the Creative Director of the Word Love Writing Community. Join us now to invigorate your writing – no matter what it is you are writing – social media posts, journaling, fiction, memoir – there will be prompts and other people there to support you. Right now, we are finishing out 2020 with 100 Days of Wonderful Words. We look forward to seeing you there.

Not on My Bucket List: Growing from the Unexpected Curves in Your Life’s Journey