Tag: learning

Paying Attention

This time of year, I often walk our dog at a state park a few minutes from our home.
I walk at my own pace.
She can run and sniff without my pulling her along on a leash.
Or her pulling me.
On our last several walks, I have been telling myself to pay attention.
To pay attention to the changing color of the leaves.
And, as the leaves fall, to pay attention to how the trees blend together on the hillside.
To pay attention to the reflection on the water.
And to the coolness of the fall breeze and the warmth of the fall sun.
To pay attention to my own breathing.
And to make sure I take breaths which fill and stretch my lungs.
Most of the time I am there alone.
I can take my time.
I can stop and look.
I can soak up the silence as well as the sun.

Paying attention in this way is practice for those other moments.
Those moments when I am not alone.
Those moments when my chest tightens.
Those moments when the noise drowns out the silence.
Because it is in these moments I most need to be able to pay attention.

It’s Been A Year

It was raining a year ago.
Like it is raining now.
Only a year ago it was colder.
The moving van arrived about 9:00 AM to unload.
Furniture.
Books.
Boxes.
Clothes.
And suddenly we were “home.”
From one house and community where we had lived for nearly 30 years
To a new house and a new community.
And a new chapter in our lives.

It has been quite a year.
Lose.
Letting go.
Learning.
Beauty.
Trying to figure out how to use these next years in ways which are meaningful.
Something I am still trying to do.

I realize now how tired I was.
In some ways I still am.
There is an unwinding and loosening which takes time.
Longer than I thought it would.
A prying open of space so something new can begin to take root.
I have tried to be patient with the process.
Patient with myself.
Tried is the operative word.
Maybe I am not as patient a person as I thought I was.
When I retired I had a list of what I wanted to do.
I thought I would be able to plunge in and check off my retirement list like I checked off my daily To Do list when I was working.
I still have that list.
Pretty much the same today as it was then.

What have I learned?
This…
It takes time to learn new things.
I just have to try it.
And, it’s okay if it doesn’t work out or doesn’t work out the way I imagined.
It’s okay not to be busy all the time.
Walks in the woods or along the lake restores a balance in my life.
Community is important.
I miss the community I had.
Church folks/People of Faith are important to me.
We, including/especially me, are FAR from perfect, but for a few moments, on some sort of regular basis, we risk putting ourselves in a position/place to be confronted and challenged by ideals and dreams and possibilities larger than what fills our lives the rest of the week.
I am grateful for the time and the opportunities I have. Even when it feels hard.

So…
One year in.
On to year two.

I Screwed Up

In principal, I knew how to do it, but I had never actually done it before.
And, I screwed up.
It was all fixable.
But I needed someone else who had done it before to step in and help.
As a former mentor would say, “No one died so we will all be here tomorrow to work on it.”
But I still felt awful.
I had screwed up.
I hate screwing up.

But here is the hard part.
At least for me.
If I want to learn to do something new (which I do!), I am going to make mistakes as I learn.
I am going to screw up.
Even though I hate screwing up.
Then I am going to have to try again.
And probably screw up again.
Not the same way as the first time, but in some new way I don’t yet know.

All this was just a part of life when we were younger.
Remember learning to walk.
Or to catch and throw a ball.
Or figure out two plus two or five times ten.
Or to figure out that the letters D O G spelled the word dog.

I want to recover that persistence.
And patience.
And grace.
But I hate screwing up.

Old Habits

For Christmas last year I bought my wife and me matching…
(Wait for it!)
Electric toothbrushes.
I know.
Not very romantic or exciting.
But they are practical.
And, they were on sale.
And, as I have used mine this past year, I have found I do brush longer.
Which is probably a good thing, right?
As I was brushing my teeth the other morning using my electric toothbrush, I suddenly realized I was brushing my teeth the old fashioned way. Back and forth. Up and down. Instead of letting the rotating bristles and the pulsating head do what the were designed and engineered to do.
I guess, old habits die hard.

Which makes me wonder…
What other old habits do I hold onto?
Doing what I have always been doing.
Thinking in patterns in which I have been taught to think.
Responding in ways I am accustomed to respond.
To and about people?
To and about the world around me?
To and about you?
To and about myself?
What are those old habits buried somewhere within us
Which need to be noticed.
And named.
And, set aside.
Because they no longer fit or make sense or work the way they used to.
But…
And, this is the hard part
Old habits die hard.

Letting Go

I hold his hand
As he walks along the stone wall.
Arms outstretched.
Testing each step before it is taken.
I easily hold his hand
As we walk along.
But for him
The stone wall
Towers like a mountain.
In this moment
Far above what he can see
When standing on the ground.
He walks near the sky.
Then
A few steps along
He shakes his hand free.
Determined.
Confident.
He can do it on his own.

What is he learning
I wonder
That I have forgotten?

Jumping Off The Curb

Several weeks ago my wife and I had the opportunity to visit our son and his family who live in Los Angeles. Besides time with our son and his wife (which is special enough), we also had time to be with our grandson who is now 19 months old. Each morning we were there he and I went for a walk. Besides the bagel we would have for breakfast, we would spend time on one of his favorite activities. Learning to jump.
He would hold my hand.
I would count to three.
He would jump.
Sometime he would jump on two because learning to jump was more fun than waiting for three.
He would then step back up, circle around, reach for my hand again and do it all over again.
And again.
And again.

A part of me had forgotten that is how you learn.
To do that which is new, you hold someone’s hand.
Jump.
And, do it over and over again.
Somewhere along the way, the notion was embedded in my heart and mind that I should be able to do it myself. Learn it myself.
Know it without having to do it, whatever it is, over and over again.
Day after day.
I need to unlearn all that and, instead, learn from my grandson and jump off the curb.
Over and over again.
Smiling as I do it.

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Several things I believe: