Catch a Cloud and Pin it Down

How do you keep a wave upon the sand?

There’s been a lot of lamenting lately. A lingering sadness that teeters on complaining and discontent. Instead of seeing what is, I am inclined to see what is lacking. 

This is disconcerting to me because I have always been a glass-half-full kind of gal. 

When I finally feel the weight of what is, it quickly lifts and floats away. 

How do I get it to stay? And what is it by the way?

Stop scrolling. 

As I scroll, I shift my attention away from the present and onto the next thrill. 

Stroll. I remember that I used to get on an airplane and sit. I didn’t have headphones on. As a kid, I remember just sitting. It seems silly to talk about that because at the time, it was so normal. It was perfectly fine to arrive somewhere and just sit there. Sometimes in the doctor’s office, there were magazines or a Bible on the coffee table. Sometimes I would just sit and wait for my name to be called. My mom didn’t have games, papers, books, etc in her purse to entertain me. We all just sat and waited. 

When our girls were toddlers, I remember that most minivans and SUVs had individual DVD players on the back of each seat. I decided it was a critical decision not to get our kids into the habit of watching their own things during a car ride. I wanted them to look out the window. I wanted them to remember tunes and hum them. Of course, this invited quite a bit of conflict as well. Sharing a water bottle also invited conflict. “You drank it all…and now I don’t have any!” 

Giving each kid their own ________ is harder. However, it was worth it. 

Now, I’m back again. Each kid has their own iPad. They have their own water bottles. 

I’ve fallen into the ease of giving in to convenience. Convenience and ease. 

If “easy” were the objective in life, we wouldn’t have astronauts. 

If “easy” were the objective in life, practicing a Dvorak piece would come right away, not 50 hours of practice in a quartet. 

If “easy” were the objective in life… a machine would carry my baby to term. 

How do we fight that inevitable desire for comfort?

It seems that we have to train ourselves in the difficult things and the easy things. 

The difficulty produces in us all that amazing stamina, character, perseverance, and grit. 

And I believe the easy things are the very normal, common, everyday things around us that we need to be present for. 

It’s the bird that perches outside my window and is looking at its reflection. 

It’s that singular dimple on my daughter’s cheek. That one special dimple that she got from her father, who got it from his mother, who got it from her father. 

It’s the shared laughter and joking that have become deeper as we sit around the table.

It’s sitting outside the quartet practice room and listening to them struggle over a stanza over and over and over again until all of a sudden… magic. It is. 

That last one is a two-for-one. It’s difficult for them; it’s easy for me. Just listen and don’t put on your headphones. 

I love how music seems to pop up as an analogy for so much in life. A single note is simple, beautiful. I still remember Alfredo giving me my first lesson in guitar. For about 20 minutes, we simply plucked the RE (d) string to hear it as clearly as it could be played. That moment will forever be locked in my memory. Alfredo is leaning in with his ear towards my hand plucking. It was so simple, yet his face displayed joy and wonder. He is a conductor, a musician, and a kind person. In that instant, he taught me more about life and wonder than I had learned in 100 hours of a classroom. 

Music has that power. It floats from a beautifully complex piece of classical music to the simple plucking of RE. It is all important: the difficult and the easy. 

Am I experiencing it? I don’t know that I ever thought about having to choose to be present in the experience. It feels like that choice has grown larger with every passing day. 

“Never be without entertainment again” is the slogan, and the trap is to be divided. Dividing my present body and my mind to go to some other place with some other person. 

The weight of the moment calls me like the breeze moving the palm fronds outside my window. 

“You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”  Psalm 16:11

These pleasures are here, not there. When we seek, we find that what we are looking for is here, not there. Somewhere in between the easy and difficult of being present, we find the path of life.