Mind the Gap Between Expectations and Reality

Reflections on Reunion

This morning as I padded outside in slippers and dressing gown to greet the dawn, three wild geese flew from the east, across the face of the waning moon.

I held my breath in awe at the sight. Everything is perfect, just as is, on this Easter morning, I thought.

Here’s the moon, you can imagine the three wild geese flying past..

When I read that Reunion was our

Beth Kempton

SoulCircle prompt on Monday, I was delighted by the serendipity of it. This was the week of our family reunion, an occasion I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. Elder daughter was flying back from Costa Rica and would travel directly to us in Wales. She would arrive late Tuesday, when granddaughter and friend would also arrive from Cornwall. Over Easter we would be joined by grandson and partner and celebrate the joint birthdays of granddaughter and her dad, 21 and 50 respectively.

That was the plan!

My husband developed a chest infection on Monday, succumbing to a nasty bug that has been circulating as the season changes. I warned elder daughter that evening, thinking she would decide to travel home to the West country and stay safe.

Tuesday morning dawned, I felt ill, elder daughter was still coming but would stay with younger daughter. I stayed in bed all day. We were both coughing, wheezing and shivery. I could not see us being well enough to join the family in Bannau Brycheiniog (Brecon Beacons) hiking around the waterfalls for the weekend as planned. Nor did I want to share this bug with my loved ones.

As I lay in bed, watching the welcome rain bless the sun-parched earth, I saw my dreams dissolving, and recognised the inner twisting of sorrow, acceptance, anger and resentment. Not again! Why does illness always ruin my plans? I was so well!

I want to hold my darlings in my arms again, to sit with them and hear their stories, to share mine. To walk beside the sea and gaze at waterfalls. To marvel at the cherry blossom, laugh and eat and simply be in one another’s company, a look, a touch, a smile, a knowing, the warmth of love, the cosy comfort of reunion. The echoes and ripples of times shared and future hopes.

Family. Love. Togetherness.

By Wednesday, husband could not swallow, his throat was raw. The Doctor recommended antibiotics. We visited the family at younger daughter’s home. We wore masks and felt rough. It was wonderful to see and hug them (briefly, face turned away, memories of Covid days.) To hear of equatorial gardens and hummingbirds, dolphin pods and monkeys, yoga and jungle dwelling. I was soon overwhelmed and slightly tearful, so we drove home and crawled back into bed.

Later they came round, cooked for us, insisted we did not need to wear our masks. We had some time together, brief and precious as it was. Yet still the sorrow sat in me, comparing how it could have been. Too weak and ill to fully engage. Too sad to know this time would pass too soon.

I was ill often as a child and teenager, spent many long weeks in bed, missed countless looked-forward-to events. This is an old old pattern. I have been training myself for many years not to indulge in expectations, to live in the present moment, to accept what is, because it is beyond my control, and to find the light in the darkest of times.

There is always something to be grateful for, always a lesson to learn, an insight to find, a glimmer of greater awareness of an underlying reality, beyond the comedies, tragedies and dramas that unfold on the stage of our lives.

Illness as a child made me who I am today: opened the doors of my perception, shown me the magic of words, powered my imagination, strengthened my soul and taught me to face death fearlessly and live life passionately.

When every breath is a struggle, and every step a challenge, the wonder of feeling well again, of breathing in fresh air, of standing in sunshine, of listening to the song of a blackbird, of sensing the wind kiss my cheek, is like liquid, golden joy, like perfumed honey, like the best hug ever.

Being ill is worth it for the wonder of feeling well again. Do people who are always well ever know the wonder of this?

Wednesday night I barely slept, my chest was so congested breathing was difficult, and I was coughing most of the night. Another visit to the doctors and I was also on antibiotics, plus steroids to help reduce inflammation. We spent another day in bed, too ill to see anyone. I’d let go of any hope of a family reunion. I ruefully remembered a phrase my friend shared with me once, her London boyfriend had coined it, inspired by the ‘mind the gap between the train and the platform’ message broadcast on every London Underground train as it pulls into a station:

Mind the gap between expectations and reality.

Every time I repeat this phrase to myself, I smile. It’s such a trap, isn’t it, indulging in expectations? And yet we all fall into it. We create little pictures or stories in our minds about how it’s going to be. Look forward to those highlights on our horizons: a birthday, a holiday, a reunion, a new job, a course that will change our lives, meeting the ‘one’, having a child, writing a book…

And it’s okay! It’s good to have goals and bright spots to look forward to, it keeps us engaged and enthusiastic. I’m a restless soul and always need to be planning something ahead. I just have to remember to let go of any expectations when the plans come to fruition. I may have some control in the when and how of initiating a plan, but the reality of what happens is in the lap of the goddess, or fate, or whatever we want to call it. I need to mind the gap, let go of any expectations, they kept me amused before the event, but they are a hindrance during it.

Acceptance of the reality of a situation is a great attainment. How many people are dissatisfied with their lives because they do not live up to their expectations? We can ask ourselves that question about any part of our lives, large or small: the first cup of tea, a conversation with a friend, an essay, a poetry reading, a post on Substack, a reunion, a love-affair, life.

Mind the gap between expectations and reality.

In my experience, when I fully embrace what is, and let go of how I wished it would have been, I can relish the treasures before me, and I am happy.

On Good Friday we celebrated the joint birthday of son-in law and granddaughter. It was utterly joyful, perfect in its timing. Grandson and partner joined us, and we had our family reunion. There were bubbles and chocolate cake, laughter and tears, delicious food and family love, Turkish delight and Costa-Rican coffee. Even the sun shone!

Then elder daughter travelled home, birthday family went to Bannau Brycheiniog and walked the four waterfalls, and we went back to bed.

And today I saw three wild geese fly past the waning moon.

Perfection.

Underlying my reflections on reunion is the deeper awareness of what this beautiful word means to me. The true reunion, that which I see as my purpose for being on this earth, the reunion with the Self, the source of all, the light which illumines creation.

That light is the reality which underpins everything, and it is truth, consciousness and bliss—satchitananda.

I think we all have glimpses of that profound connection, that sense of belonging, of homecoming: when music or art touches our soul, when nature’s beauty and wonder fill us with awe, when we push beyond our boundaries or are so focused we transcend our limitations and tap into the cosmic flow.

For many of us there is a moment in our lives when we know, with all the certainty of our being, that we are part of this incredible creation, we are not lonely pieces of flotsam floating in a sea of despair.

We are light. We are joy. We are simply AMAZING.

Here's to our true reunion. May each of us know how fully we are connected.

Om purnamadah purnamidam
Purnat purnamudacyate
Purnasya purnamadaya
Purnamevavasisyate
Om Shantih shantih shantih

Om. That is perfect. This is perfect.
From the perfect springs the perfect.
If the perfect is taken from the perfect,
the perfect remains.
Om Peace peace peace.

Shanti mantra from the Isavasya Upanishad.

With love,

Josie