Zen in the Wait

This summer I climbed a rock wall for the first time.

I did the easy side, and my third born zipped up the harder side next to me—but after so many years of being too afraid to try it, I knew THIS year I had to get it done.

So I did. Awkward helmet on my pumpkin-sized head, straps uncomfortably cinched around my ample backside, I did.

I zipped up my course…not because I have skill, I just have long arms and legs and I find that when I am nervous I do much better if I can go as fast as possible so that I don’t have time to think, I am just doing and moving forward.

There were a few moments where I had to grip onto teeny tiny colorful globs that really seemed incapable of holding all of me as I looked for the next grip. I focused with all my might on Just Getting To the Top. I knew if I stopped to think, I might be stuck like Charlie on the MTA.

Will she ever climb up? Will she ever climb down? Oh her fate is still unlearned!

She may cling forever to the Camp Sunshine Rock Wall!

She’s the mom who never climbed down!

Yergh.

And then, when I got to the top, I had to wait for my third born, she who is 6 inches shorter than I am and was climbing a harder route. After the brief moment of Extreme Woohoo! I did it!…I started to think a bit about physics and altitude and the rate at which one could fall to the earth if the person belaying me let go, or what the probability was of my grown up self launching that young woman into the air as she tried to help me DOWN the wall.

This moment was less fun.

This is the moment in which I find myself now, in so many areas of life.

No, not typing at the top of a rock wall—although that would be some awesome multi-tasking. I am in that moment of waiting. And in waiting there is time to think. And for me, with thinking comes doubt. 

I have a feeling I am not alone in this, even though those moments often feel awfully lonely!

Which way is up or down? What direction am I supposed to be climbing in? How can I help my friends who I love so much and who live so far away and are in the thick of things right now? How can I keep my skills sharp as I wait to see if I will find my way back into a classroom? Is that where I should even be headed? Which way is the best way to help people in my own community, to support my children even as I try to get them to be more independent and responsible? How can I start contributing financially to my family again? WHICH WAY IS UP?

Thankfully, I have zero doubt that starting the climb into this new moment (i.e. leaving my old job) was ten bazillion percent the right thing to do. Zero doubt.  I miss my students, but I have Gwen Stefani levels of No Doubt. There is great freedom in THAT choice, huzzahlelujah.

My doubt and overthinking come in the moment of waiting. What now? 

At the hospital, folks who worked there would joke about how good our family is at waiting—we love our neuro-oncologist, she spends so much time with her patients that she is notoriously late. Since we have been the “needs more time to sort through catastrophe” family too many times, we NEVER fuss about waiting. Ever. Even when the hospital staff are checking out for the day and we are the only people left in the waiting room, we wait without fussing. During certain waits (like scans and such) after a certain time I start to pace, which makes my spouse insane, especially when I throw in moves from the Ministry of Silly Walks or start only stepping on the colorful tiles, but otherwise we are really good at waiting there.

In regular life? In figuring out where/how to focus my efforts? I am less good at waiting. I am super skilled at self-doubt and overthinking.

Doing is so much easier than being—quiet moments are hard. 

Circling wagons to help a friend is easier than sitting in the wagons and waiting for first light, just sharing the dark space with friends in quiet.

Taking a course to keep my skills sharp is easier than making myself work through texts on my own with no measurable goal in sight (other than to finish the text).

Demo is always easier than the slow task of planning and rebuilding.

I just am not sure where the next colorful glob is to hold on to—just that it’s probably uphill!  I have to hang on, and keep moving right along in the small structures that shape my day (around chauffeuring my girls), one colorful glob to the next, and trust that the right path will become clear as long as I stay focused on the process of moving forward—and not obsess about an end point I can’t see. 

In order to get down from that rock wall--I had to let go. Literally. Let go of the wall and trust that I would not splat. After some awkward flailing, I went all Blues Brothers Swat Team on that wall (hut! hut! hut!) -- but letting go of  that which is solid and known is scary--but required to not stay stuck.

 Rebuilding done right takes letting go of my need for control over every outcome, it takes time—and I know there is zen in the process, zen in the wait. I can't just race through without thinking. And that's ok. 

So for anyone who can relate to this sort of questioning in the hanging on moments--you aren't alone. For anyone stuck in the present moment, plagued with doubt or self-recrimination about past choices or personal weaknesses or generalized ugh with all the awful things going on these days—hang on. We will figure it out, whatever IT is. We can. We just have to hold on, look for the next little glob (moment) to cling to and keep moving forward. We will figure out where we are going.

You know what my beloved Muppets say – no, not “Bear Left, Bear Left!” – “Right, Frog!”, although that is true, too --
“Getting there is half the fun come share it with me!”

And when getting there is NOT super fun—I am grateful to share the trek with all of you—especially when the path is dark and hard and we have to hold each other up. Without that young woman belaying me, I would not have made it up that wall--or down! Now, I am so grateful for friends and family belaying me in my What the Heck Now? climb. Don’t forget your helmets…and thanks for not letting go! Seriously. I have a strong aversion to Splat. Thank you. 

Also, I should go look up what those colorful rock wall globs are called, right? Stay tuned.