Vitality

Vitality shows not only in the ability to persist but the ability to start over.  —F. Scott Fitzgerald

Moving in a Moving World

I took this photo from a moving bus. I aimed my phone and clicked, then cropped the image. That's all.

The photo looks nothing like what I saw out the window of the bus. What I saw then was a steady and familiar world, a grounded place that we can count on, good or bad.

But what the photo suggests is closer to the truth. It suggests a world that's moving, in both profound and trivial ways. The world in the photo doesn't look still or steady or even like it can be interpreted only one way. It's in motion, like each of us.

We move in a moving world. It gets complicated. Sometimes I wish it was simpler, sometimes I'm thrilled by all the possibilities.

The Thaw

Soon, the thaw gets messy. Storm drains clog, cars hydroplane, and freshly walked dogs drip all over carpets. But for the first few hours of the big thaw, when the world transitions from freezing and white to warm and colorful, it is beautiful. The snow lets go, slowly revealing what's under it. Nothing is definite yet. But, there is no rush, and there is no resistance.

Sled Under Melting Snow

Snow + Me

My relationship with snow is not very healthy, or at least, not very mature. Snow brings out the fun in me, but also brings out a few traits that I hope rarely rear their ugly heads.

Like jealousy. Last weekend, when every other local neighborhood was graced with a blanket of white, mine was left out. For some reason, the snow skipped us, and I had a bad case of snow envy. Melodramatically, the song, "Femme Fatale," ran through my brain.

Then there's sloth. Snow, or even the threat of it, can be an excuse for sleeping in, day drinking, skipping work, staring out the window for hours, baking and eating massive carbs, hording, you name it. I do indulge in several of these, and I have a lot of company. Snow does that to people.

And there's my weak will in the face of tantalizing possibilities. I well know, from years of experience, that the forecast of snow here is often unfulfilled. It is the atmospheric equivalent of, "I'll call you." But I fall for that classic insincerity because I hope so much to see snow. When it finally does show up, I know it's best to ignore it, because it will soon go away, but I find myself intrigued and starving for fun because I've been waiting, and I end up going out with it.

Finally, my self-centered side makes an appearance. I'm not thinking much about those for whom snow is a major inconvenience. I'm thinking, please, please, please snow so I can go play. I love that on snow days, we suspend our typical responsibilities. We are more in the moment. They are so rare here, and in the middle of...

Oh...sorry...distracted. It's snowing! Big time! It's sticking. Hey, you don't mind if I abandon this post and go do fun things, do you? Are you sure you're OK with it? I...gotta go...

I'll call you.

Tunnel Vision

There is only one way through a tunnel: forward, with confidence. Take off your shades and turn on your headlights. Aim for the light at the end of the tunnel, which may not be visible until you're almost there.

Trust that the engineers did their jobs well and that the structure is sound. Trust that those around you are moving forward, with confidence, like you. Trust that the tunnel is not so long that your focus narrows permanently.

Going through a tunnel, you, of course, remember what's on the outside of it. You know what daylight is, and you know how to work your peripheral vision. But while you're going through the tunnel, you have to focus on just one thing: moving forward.

When you reach the outside again, after you adjust to the brightness, you'll need to look around and broaden your awareness. Hey, loosen up a bit.

The tunnel is a neat way to go from somewhere to another place. But it's no place to live.

Wishing You a Ridiculous Beginning

"All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning. Great works are often born on a street corner or in a restaurant's revolving door."

-- Albert Camus

Four Words from Mom for the New Year

I'm an idea person. At best, this trait opens up worlds of new possibilities. It sparks me to make new things and to favor learning and discovery. It helps me change a negative spin into a positive one, and shows me another person's perspective so we can communicate with understanding. Basically, it helps me creatively solve problems. I can quickly develop new ideas, sort them, and shake out a handful of workable, and often, really good options. It's a life-long process to trust and expand this side of the trait.

And then there is the other side. At worst, this trait overwhelms me with scary possibilities. A pain in my abdomen can become, in my mind: muscle pull, cancer, how will I pay the medical bills, oh God help me navigate this disaster! It's a life-long process to control this side, to disregard what uninformed fear brings to mind.

When I was a sophomore in college and experiencing the worst side of this trait, I called my Mom for help. It was near finals week and I was totally overwhelmed. How can I possibly manage all the papers, research, and tests; what if my alarm doesn't go off and I miss a final exam; what was my political science professor really looking for; what if I calculated the practice work incorrectly; what if I fail? Oh no, life is over if I fail!

I blathered this into the phone toward my Mom, panicked and upset. When I finally stopped talking long enough for her to get a word in, she said:

"Start with one thing."

Instant calm. She saved me from drowning in a sea of possibilities (in this case, disastrous, if unlikely, possibilities), dried me off a bit, and set me on the path to actually creating a good outcome. I needed to put one foot in front of the other to get anywhere.

We have to map out the big ideas and goals over time to accomplish anything. There are times when imagination is the greatest gift. And there are times when you simply have to choose one thing to do, putting aside for that moment your doubts, and the simplified vision of your goals, and all the other things you could choose to do.

Now that you've developed your 2012 resolutions, which might seem overwhelming even if you're enthusiastic about them, I can only suggest my mother's advice on how to best accomplish them: Start with one thing.