Learning, Becoming, Being

My second-oldest daughter is a very good pianist and flutist.  She has accompanied choirs and has confidently played solos in front of auditoriums full of people.  My oldest daughter said the other day, "She doesn't remember how bad she used to be."  It's true, she wasn't born knowing how to play instruments.  In fact, as far as "natural" talent goes, my oldest (who does not play the piano publicly) was possibly born with more.  With continual practice and ongoing lessons, my second eventually surpassed her on the piano.  When we could no longer afford to pay for lessons, she used babysitting money and did odd jobs to pay for both piano and flute lessons.  I never had to remind her to practice. 

I asked her, "How did you do it?  How did you keep from giving up?" 

"I knew it would take a long time to learn," she said. 

And she was okay with that.  She was patient with herself.  She knew it would be an ongoing process. 

I asked, "Where or how did you learn that?" 

"Music classes, I guess."  She started playing flute in seventh grade.  Her teachers must have encouraged her and helped her be patient with herself.

I was surprised when she told me, "I know successful musicians who are never satisfied with their performances.  There's always room for improvement.  I'm still learning." 

I was surprised that she doesn't feel done.  She doesn't seem hard on herself.  I guess there is such a thing as healthy dissatisfaction.  She acknowledges that she still has things to learn.  Her focus wasn't on "I'm going to learn to play the flute and piano,"  because if it was, she achieved that years ago and could quit.  Her focus has been on learning and becoming a better piano player and flute player.  Now my daughter is teaching herself how to play the guitar.  Eventually, she wants to be a music therapist.  I am confident she'll achieve whatever she sets her mind to doing.

I've been thinking a lot about learning and becoming rather than focusing on getting or achieving.  There doesn't necessarily have to be an end result in sight.  Clearly there's a goal, desire, or purpose, but there doesn't have to be instant perfection or achievement. 

This way of thinking has applications that I need right now.  I want to remember the journey matters, not just the destination.  I want to experience all the joy I possibly can now instead of thinking, "I will be happy when..."  I have experienced reaching goals that I thought would make me happy, but even though I was pleased and proud of myself, once I reached them I wasn't instantly transformed into a happy person. 

I've thought to apply this to healthy living.  I have a few pounds to lose.  I have reached weight goals before and still felt unhappy with myself.  Instead, I can focus on being healthy now, on making healthy choices every day, and being happy with myself now rather than focusing on that ideal weight. In this way, I will naturally improve my health.  Diets tend to be external manifestations of external controls.  Once the external control goes away the pounds return.  Lasting healthy living requires internal control and manifests itself with both internal and external results.  If I am being healthy and making healthy choices I am practicing internal control.

The "I will be happy when..." mentality doesn't work.  If I'm going to be happy or healthy or learning something or becoming something, I need to do it today.

Therapy Walking

My husband and I have helpful conversations on our walks sometimes.  I'm not sure he's getting enough exercise, but it's definitely worth it to me.  This morning, we were talking about achieving big things in life.  We talked about how you have to really want something, to dream, to have vision, to have a passion for something in order to accomplish it. 

I often let fear of failure get in my way. 

I told him, "Some things seem too big, too overwhelming, and difficult."

He said, "But that's not focusing on the white line." 

It was a gentle reminder of a story I tell every once in a while that taught me not to focus on bad things that could happen.  The story:

I failed my driver's license test just before taking a road trip across the United States from Utah to Virginia.  What a confidence shaker.  My grandmother, sister, and I were going to help with my cousin's wedding.  I had a learner's permit and my family felt it would be good for me to practice driving during the long trip; it would also give the other drivers a break.  I was not eager to drive.  My grandmother and sister drove through Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, and most of Iowa.  Most of the roads were broad, even boring.  "Even you could handle this," they said.

Finally, when Grandma and my sister were exhausted, I was willing to take a turn.  I sat behind the wheel just as we were leaving Iowa.  Unfortunately, there was construction and a lot of traffic just minutes after I started driving.  There was also construction on a bridge crossing the Mississippi into Illinois.  The narrow, normally one-way bridge was temporarily converted into a two-way bridge.  There were cones and barriers everywhere.  The traffic was terrible.  Of course there was no shoulder. We were suspended over the Mississippi and it seemed eternally wide.

I panicked.  There was no way we could switch drivers at that point. 

I told my grandma, "I feel like I'm going to hit an oncoming car.  It feels like I'm heading right toward them, like they're going to crash into me." 

"What are you looking at?  Are you looking at the cars?" Grandma said.

"Yes.  And I'm looking at the yellow lines so I don't cross over and hit someone." 

She yelled, "Stop looking at the cars!  Focus on the white line on your side of the bridge." 

I was shaking.  When I looked at the white line, I felt better. We managed to make it across the bridge.  As soon as we could, we switched drivers.  

The lesson my grandmother taught me stayed with me.  When I focused on the potential to crash and the fear of those oncoming cars, I was sure I was going to hit them.  I probably would have hit them.  When I focused on the white lines, on the place I was supposed to be, I stayed far enough away from the oncoming cars.  And I wasn't so afraid.  It doesn't make sense to focus on failure or bad things that might happen. 

This morning, my husband and I also talked about commitment. When you really want to accomplish something difficult, something that takes a lot of time and effort, commitment can get you through.  Persisting in doing hard things gets boring sometimes.  Sometimes you might not even like what you are doing.  But as long as you are committed to it, as long as you keep doing what it takes to achieve something, you'll succeed. 

So, today I'm thinking about the things I'm committed to.  Once I figure that out, I need to focus on what I really want instead of fearing.

Heroes

My brother John is a real cyclist. He inspires me. John has lived with his family in Virginia for years and has regularly commuted on his bike the thirteen miles into D.C. and back even through wintery months. This Saturday he will be riding 100 miles to raise money for the National MS Society.

In the past, John's daughter has ridden with him on a tandem bike. This year, she's sick, so my nephew is filling in for her. He needs to raise $300 for the ride before Saturday. To see a picture of my nephew and to help, please click here.

Sky Appreciation

I felt inspired at the bathroom window again.  This time, I stood on the throne to avoid the screen at the bottom of the window.  My sad little camera doesn't do it justice.  Maybe you can imagine why I wanted a picture at the lake.  Lakeside property would be nice.

Wild Little Daisies

We saw fields of these on our walk this morning.  Wild or planted, I like them. 

If it hadn't been for the scary hooded guy in the park, we'd have never seen them.  My goal this morning was to take a picture of the sun rising on the lake.  It was a little late for the color I saw from my bathroom window, but I was hoping to see residual prettiness. 

The gates of the park were closed.  A strange, dented van full of grocery bags was parked out front.  The hooded guy was pacing just inside the entrance and looking like he was waiting for someone.  I got the creeps but didn't say anything.  We kept walking toward the gate.  Then my husband said, "He looks kind of scary."  If he thought so too, then we were out of there.  I immediately turned away from the park gates and we ended up walking by the daisy fields instead. 

Sometimes life takes us where we didn't plan to go and we end up somewhere better.

Not only Rain

We were looking out the window, admiring the sky, and thought, Why not go outside? 

If you look very closely, you might be able to see Venus toward the middle of this picture. 

Clouds bring rain and beauty.

Parking

This is my favorite picture of me at "Goose-poop" Park--

which no longer has goose poop, perhaps because of these--

Dogs on sticks.  Maybe we should call it "Corn dog" Park.  The wooden doggies blow around a bit in the wind.  There are three of them guarding the beach. 

These guys look bored, but we really did have fun once that ball was bouncing, the frisbee was flying, and the shovel and pail were building castles in the sand.