Zen and Practice (aka Hey, a Post After a Hospital Day!)

(first: our MRI day showed everything is stable--time to breathe)

“Practice makes perfect”

Yay, perfect!

Boo, practice.

And really—does practice make perfect?

Practice promotes progress. Practice builds perseverance. Practice fosters peace.

Perfection doesn’t exist. Except O’Bagel bagels (Stirling, NJ). They are pretty perfect. 

Cinnamon Bagel, O'Bagel.

 Yes, it has icing. Be Amazed.

According to family history, my grandmother was a piano prodigy. By 15 she could play Rachmaninoff with ease—but she hated performing, she would accompany other musicians or singers, but she never liked to perform solo, despite her gift.

Enter the first grandchild—the only one lucky enough to meet Grandma, who died very young. My grandfather wanted me to have piano lessons so I could play like Grandma…

But…I am no prodigy, and I hated practicing, and I hated performing on the piano as much if not more than Grandma did. Probably more, since I had zero of her skill—and even as a kid, I hated not being perfect.  I used to pray I would get the flu before recitals.

I never did. 

I know this disappointed my Grandfather (my terror of playing for him, not my immunity to spontaneous flu), which I regret, but my 9 year old self really liked reading and drawing and collecting stickers and pretending to be on Broadway more than piano—even after my parents told me that there were certain songs from Man of La Mancha that I should not belt out at Christian summer camp. 

Probably STILL a good idea not to belt “It’s All the Same” at Camp. Ahem.

And yet, while I know now that it is ok that I did not embrace piano like my Grandma did, as an adult I see the benefits of practice.  More accurately—I understand the absolute compelling need for daily practice in so many areas. Practice no longer means Hanon finger exercises on piano—although sans performance pressure those are kind of zen! Practicing things that promote health, personal priorities, and ultimately what is best for our families is essential, not for perfection, but for progress toward reaching whatever goals we have set for ourselves—even if those goals are as silly as not having Screaming Loud Face when not speaking my opinion (my kid begged me at a recent event not to make “mad face”, I told her that ship had sailed. I have resting SOMEBODY IS GOING DOWN AND IT IS PROBABLY YOU face, which can be problematic. My face YELLS what I am thinking even when I am silent, alas.)

Practice, even when it seems tedious or ineffective, encourages growth. When I started running, I ran secretly, on a field near my house when nobody would see me galumphing about. Over time I ventured on to roads, bought “running clothes”, signed up for a race—not to win, (bwahahaha) but to show up, to prove to myself that perfection doesn’t matter, practice and progress do.

Practice is simply about showing up.

Yoga is all about practice, a theme that has helped me a lot.  Each day is different. Some days are great, other days, every inhale and exhale takes effort, every moment is distracted. But with practice, yoga progresses. After a few years of practice -- AND MEDICINE—to leave that piece of the practice of self-care puzzle out is to mislead, I needed both chemistry and physiology to heal my brain—the breathing, stretching, and focus of yoga has become an important part of my life. Will I be Instagramming pictures of myself upside down on top of a mountain any time soon? That would be a resounding NO.  Will I get back on the mat tomorrow and see where my practice leads? Indeed.

Just show up. Practice.

My morning prayer practice is the same—somedays I am totally “SQUIRREL!” while reading my morning meditation and taking time to pray for friends, family, and the world. Literally “SQUIRREL!”,

I put birdseed on my deck and I see the squirrels coming for breakfast…and an occasional gray cat, recently…but in the practice of showing up for 15 minutes each morning, I am slowly getting better at being present, at checking in with God, at centering my mind and refusing to get caught up in the anxiety that a new day so often holds for me.

Practice never ends; my dad is past 70 and practices his French horn every single day—which is how he maintains his musical excellence—his phenomenal natural talent from his mom provided a base, practice grows the gift—over decades! Practice keeps us in the game, on the road, moving forward—a magical end point does not exist.

So I practice stilling my noisy face. I practice telling my self-loathing interior monologue that some days rumbles to shut up already.  My perpetually cluttered counter: I have to keep practicing dealing with papers and putting things away. Writing AFTER a scan day—here is my practice at that, at writing a few drafts BEFOREHAND--and being ok with having only one little pencil/ink sketch. Progress!

The Goal: Practice showing up. Practice regrouping and starting again when things go sideways. Practice NOT freaking out, practice responding NOT reacting. Practice seeing with eyes of charity, not eyes of OH NO YOU DID NOT.  Practice being ok with imperfection. These practices I must pursue. These are my zen practices.

We won’t reach perfection. Can’t happen. Reminding myself that that is ok is part of my daily practice.  Knowing that tomorrow is another day to try…that practice is an ongoing process…THAT is what keeps me moving right along.

What are your practices that help you get where you want to be each day?