Arguing with Maya.

Arguing with Maya.

As in Angelou.  

It’s a fool’s errand, I know. She is dead after all. Besides that, she always wins these arguments.  

But still I argue.  

I argue with her when she says, “This is a wonderful day. I have never seen this one before.”  

I have this quote written on a chalk board in our kitchen. Every morning I look at it and I think, “anyone who can write those words has *not* lived through this f'ng pandemic! I can’t tell if it’s Thursday or July!” 

Then we have a good ol’ laugh together.  

Maya and me, alone in the kitchen. 

By all accounts Miss. Maya did love a good laugh. “I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t laugh.” she was quoted as saying.  

But it’s true. From where I sit (and probably for you too) these days are just kind of blurring all together.  

And yet each morning as I meet my own resistance to seeing the uniqueness of this day, there’s Maya talking tough love into my ear.  

As I move around in the darkness of the new morning, gathering my coffee and shaking myself awake she speaks to me. She gives me my first lesson of the day. 

“Say it with me, John…This is a wonderful day. I have never seen this one before.” And I do. I say with her. I say it out loud breaking the quiet of the morning.  

Her words begin to stir me.  

On particularly glum mornings she’ll have me repeat it two or three times until my heart begins to crack a little allowing the morning light to seep into it.  

Maya likes to remind me that she penned those words only a few days before she died. This fact *always* gets me. Maya knows this. That’s why she likes to remind me.  

“Sweetie, if I can see the gift in a new day so close to my last day, then you can certainly see the opportunity in this one.” (Maya, calls me “sweetie” and sometimes, “honey.”) 

She must’ve known.  

She must’ve known her days here were almost over. Perhaps sensing that — and — not wanting to miss any of it, she gifted herself with her own kind of carpe diem. In twelve short words, I suspect she gave herself a way to embrace the unknown, a way to celebrate instead of squander.  

Held in this light, Maya’s proclamation is not just a sentiment suitable for a refrigerator magnet. The magic of her assertion is that it works to galvanize the imagination. It calls on possibility, curiosity and appreciation. Especially in these times, her words open the heart to a kind of clarity. Clarity in the face of so much apparent sameness. 

Her words shake me awake. They focus my thinking. They stir a kind of delight in the newness of each day. No matter what lies ahead, they make me see how rare and precious today is. 

Who can argue with that?  

Apparently, I can.  

But I promise not to anymore. Because to argue with Maya means living in futility and as the saying goes, “ain’t nobody got time for that!”  

So happy living you gorgeous love-pirates, you. As you move into this day, I hope you mine it for all of its blessings, all of its wonder and all of its gifts small and big.  

xoxo, JohnnyD  

As a postscript I would like to say this:  

"There was a post going around on the interwebs the other day that said “We’re not all in the same boat. We’re all in the same storm but we’re not all in the same boat.” It was a way of recognizing that though we are all experiencing something similar, our reality — the conditions of our individual lives — may be quite different. 

It’s good to remember this. 

If there’s anything I can do to help you see this day with some kind possibility. If there’s anything I can do to help you embrace more fully the gift of another day, I hope you will let me know.  

I mean this. So don't be shy.  

Our boats may be different, but our humanity is the same.  

Photo by Wout Vanacker  

‍