Or the art of seeing what you need when it is right in front of you.
Current daily mantra: exercise something, write something, clean something
February 27, 2015
It’s been a very up and down week/month/year. I went for a run today, reminding me for the hundred thousandth time that running resets my brain into something suitable for human interaction (how can a brain that can successfully complete 24 years of school forget, over and over, that running is my greatest mood stabilizer?). I saw a hair twisty on the ground and was suddenly back in Chapel Hill, a little slice of heaven where I lived during my graduate school days. Come to think of it, life was very up and down there too, and not just because of the hills (it is named Chapel Hill for a reason).
In Chapel Hill I was out running one day and my brain was running even faster, doing its agitated squirrel race from one thing to the next, despairing of even one solution to the many problems I tend to dream up on a daily basis. At the time my hair was Rapunzel length down my back and I had it tied back in a pony tail. It started to rain, which experience had shown me would snarl my long thin hair into a mess (not the magnitude of a just-lied-to-congress mess, but definitely in the realm of a just-cut-it-off-rather-than-try-to-comb-it-out mess). I actually like running in the rain and if it was raining before I started I would braid the pony tail so it wouldn’t get tangled. However I was about three miles into the run when it started to rain and I cursed myself for not having a second rubber band to tie off the braid. Then I cursed myself for being such a sissy (I mean really, snarled hair has never topped the list of world problems –you don’t see Bono lobbying foreign governments to stamp out snarled hair).
I pounded along the trail for about 10 yards before I realized I had just seen a rubber band on the ground behind me. Because I was so focused on having only brought one rubber band and because I didn’t believe I would be able to make a braid while out running I didn’t even look for a rubber band. My eyes took in the rubber band but my Bear-of-Little-Brain self didn’t make sense of it because it didn’t believe I could find the answer to my problem out on the trail. I turned around and ran back and got the rubber band and braided my hair and eventually ended up at home with untangled hair. My professors at the time could have told me this was an example of selective attention. Oh wait, in fact they did. Sometimes I’m a little slow in the application.
The whole rest of the run I wondered how many times I had stepped right over the answer to a problem. How many times has my narrow vision for life prevented me from an obvious solution? It reminds me of the saying (or is it a song?) ‘standing knee deep in water and dying of thirst.’ Sometimes the thing you need is right there.
After that I started picking up the rubber bands I found lying around in the world and within months had filled two honking big nails I pounded into the wall in my closet. I stopped collecting but the clutch of rubber bands stood as a reminder to broaden my vision.
And then I moved to California, married a great guy, had children and I swear each of them came out clutching one of my cerebral lobes, turning my steel trap of a brain into sleep deprived, hormonal oatmeal. On a quick grocery store run for even more diapers (size 5 and size 2, how’s that for failing to space out the procreating) I stepped out of the car covered in spit up and amped on stress and landed in, I swear, a scattered clump of brand new rubber bands. Like, about a hundred of them. As if someone had just bought a bag and it tore open and spilled and the person didn’t even notice.
Sometimes God has to use a whole bag of rubber bands to get your attention. And there it was, the reminder that the answers might well be right under my feet. It’s not like life immediately became the soft focus fairy tale of motherhood we see in the movies but I did have a moment of remembering that I was probably standing in the water I was so thirsty for.
And I looked around and noticed I had friends and play group moms and neighbors who care about me and while life still goes up and down, it feels like there are a lot of soft places to fall. And a lot of hands helping me back up. Turns out I have a village.
But it also turns out that when it comes to life skills I have a memory like Dory in Finding Nemo (remember, those kids, now 12 and 11 years old, kept chunks of my brain as souvenirs of our first journey together). So I’m starting this blog as a way to remind myself of the stuff I know, or once knew, or knew someone who knew. A sort of guide wire out of the cave. Feel free to join me. You can start by picking up some of those rubber bands you find lying around in the world. I swear, they are everywhere.