Getting my Zen back

The past few weeks, I have had a hard time not sweating the small stuff.  I get glimpses of reality where I realize my lack of housekeeping isn't really a big deal, or that what is meant to happen will happen and for the right reasons.  But in general, my anxiety levels have been high over things like finding a soccer team for G or learning how to sheer my goats perfectly the first time.  These two items in particular have struck a chord with me, because I have realized this weekend that it's a prime example of me creating a situation where if my kids are paying attention (which is not guaranteed) they can learn some really bad habits. I'm a perfectionist, I always have been.  I want to be perfect the first time.  Couple that with my need to be efficient and not waste resources, it's a dangerous combination.  My  kids have tendencies towards this already and I want them to LEARN to be more patient, to enjoy the experience of gaining experience, two things I am not good at doing.  Two things they can only learn by example.

Fatty Patty needs a trim

Two of my pygora goats could use shearing.  They are off schedule, so it's too cold, but if I leave it on then it could ruin their one and only kid fleece. What do I do?  How do I process the fleece? How do I maintain the lock structure?  Will it be too coarse if I don't have the guard hairs removed?  Will I waste length if I use hand shears versus trying my hand at electric shears?  Should I dye it? Should I put it in a mixed batt or spin alone?  I suck at spinning!!  I need lessons!! I need help and I hate asking for help!! I'm going to fail!! and last but not least...I suck!!  That old negative, circular argument that keeps me paralyzed from even starting something has returned.  There will be more fiber and more shearing opportunities, obviously.  But I'm not enjoying the EXPERIENCE of gaining experience.  I'm putting pressure on myself to be perfect at something I've never even done before.

Saturday I tried to work on finding my Zen through a rough workout, outdoor time and dinner with good friends.  Sunday I tried to find it through family time, football watching and knitting.  Monday, it was back to the gym for boxing which very therapeutic for me.  Beating on something helps.  But what made me turn the corner was a conversation with a friend about a memorial service for an 8 year old boy.

I knew this boy, his parents are friends of good friends and I have spent time with them over dinner and at parties many times over the past 7 years.  Max was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor at age 4.  For 4 years we have heard stories of experimental treatments, unthinkable side effects; we have participated in fund raisers and silent auctions.  As an outsider, it is easier to ignore or stay ignorant to the trials and heartbreak of caring for a child with a terminal illness, I think.  You don't know the details of what they are going through and it is harder to imagine something so hard and tragic and obscure.  But now that Max's journey in this life has gone and he has moved into something free of pain and limitation, that is easier as a parent to imagine, I think.  Death is permanent, there is no ambiguity for those of us left here.

I was recounting my conversations with my friend to Tim last night.  We were trying to put ourselves in the shoes of the parents who had just lost their only child, who was only weeks younger in age than our oldest.  Yes, we would be heavily medicated.  Yes, we would be going through the motions.  But what....what event would cause you to change from that state?  How do you recover from that and live your life?  In our case I would think that still having one child would help pull us through.  But losing your only child after knowing what that experience is like and fighting for it for so long.  How cataclysmic does that event have to be to pull you back into living a life that is a constant reminder of what you have lost?   I just don't know.

One thing that Tim and I both realized though, was that the small stuff has to step aside.  We've been guilty lately of being tense with each other, not engaging enough with the kids, worrying about things like money and a messy house. We have forgotten how very fortunate we are, and how perhaps, we need to be more appreciative and grateful of the people and things that cross our paths, however long we might travel this journey together with any of them.  What these two situations that I have described have illustrated to me is the importance of understanding one thing.....Control.

I like to view life in the lens of one of my favorite outdoor activities, hiking.  I picture myself on this beautiful path through untouched landscape.  Sometimes the path is a single track, sometimes it is wider.  There are many forks in the path, there are hairpin curves and steep rocky sections as well.  One thing about being out in nature that is a given for me, it is always beautiful.  There is always something of wonder in your field of vision whether that is a emerging mushroom on the forest floor, the bubbling breath of a sand crab coming through the sand as the waves retreat or a wide, expansive vista at a mountain top.  There is always beauty.  We have the opportunity to see beauty every day if we chose it, whether it is rare glimpse of a bluebird in your yard, the gentle sloping curl of your child's hair right behind her ear, or the way your dog takes ultimate care in choosing his spot in the sun making sure to tuck in each and every pug toe to keep them warm.  When I am hiking and I see a steep, hairpin curve up ahead, I don't stop in fear of whats beyond it, I feel excitement at what might be on the other side.  When I come across a spot that is rocky and requires the use of hands and maybe even knees to get over, I don't stop and cry because it's going to be hard and I might fail.  I don't get paralyzed by fear, I look around for a more practical option to reach the same outcome and if none present themselves, I press on without hesitating. I just do it.  These are the two aspects that I need to remember to bring back my Zen.  Picture the trail.  Enjoy the experience.  Enjoy the journey.  You don't have control of the trail, but you have total control of the decisions you make on it, and how you greet it each day. See the beauty in life, it is there, everywhere, you just have to pick you nose up and not allow your vision to be obscured by the things that are less important, like money or clean houses.