What I Expect
I fool myself. (Sunday Reflection)
I have been thinking lately about my expectations.
Before anything happens, I have already decided what it will mean. I load moments with burdens: how they should look, how they should feel, what they should give me.
Reality always under- or overshoots my silent expectations. A day I thought would be dull glows. A moment I looked forward to is flat.
I measure what is, against what was supposed to be.
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These expectations rule my heart. I rehearse future trouble, steel myself against despair. I picture small triumphs, weaving stories of delight.
And then the day arrives, refusing to fit.
It seems a needless way to suffer. Even joy can be dimmed this way, because it does not appear in the shape I pictured.
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It is daily work, to release these quiet demands. To let life be, without bending it. To simply notice: this is how it is today.
It is stark, standing on unfamiliar ground. There is freedom there too.
A trade: the weight of expectation, for the gift of attention.
– from the mountain
Consider:
Where today am I trying to shape reality?
Reading:
“Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” — Alexander Pope
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“If individuals resolutely submit to the carrying of the cross … they will discover in all of them great relief and sweetness.” — St. John of the Cross 
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“My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.” — Psalm 62:5 (KJV)
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