pesky little expectations

"Expectations are disappointments unwritten." That statement, or what I felt at the time was an "injured opinion,"struck such a discord in me the first time I heard it, that I actually got up from the circle that I was sitting in and left the room! I left so quickly, that I think even my shadow had a problem keeping up. Breaking the little rules has always kind of been my thing. Rather than sit there and bite my tongue on the absurdity of the statement, it seemed the wiser decision was to remove my mouth from the room before someone else did it for me! It's been several years since that phrase, all clever and addictive, carved itself into me. And hundreds of expectations did in fact result in thousands of disappointments along the way. So the statement proved applicable in and of itself. I understand the protective nature of an approach that is designed to shield from additional hurt, sadness, and pain and to aid in acceptance. And I can appreciate its' loving intent. However, it also feels a little flat and numbingly grey; Neither of which I think is truly the blood pressure of living life out loud, courageously and free! Sure, having expectations, I get hurt more often and I cry and I bleed and I even have to retreat once in a while to lick my wounds. Exposure is vulnerable. Emotional nerve-endings that fire radically when touched by those dreaded expectations just remind me that I'm still alive! Life hurts. And that's okay. The magic is in "making the most of all the sadness," as John's lyrical genius so states. On the other side of the hurt, after I've picked myself up and brushed off the residue, is this shiny, wonderful realization that the world is still loyally spinning on its' axis just as it was before I tripped over those little obstacles. Imagine that! Lately, I've been "learning to love again," learning to laugh more often, and learning to truly let go... of people, of ideas, and of preconceived notions. Learning to let go of those bitter lost expectations, without truly surrendering my right to them, will take a little longer. And knowing me, just when I free myself up from the grip of the old ones, new ones will jump into my lap and beg me to hold them. And I will. And I'll laugh ... and I'll love ... and I'll live more as a result!