To Be Clear...

There are times when life is crystal clear--when you know what is ahead and what is behind, and when you are fairly sure that the decisions you are making are the right ones, at least for the current moment.

These times make up about 10-20% of life.

More often, clarity is seen only through the foggy filter of circumstance. What is ahead and behind changes daily, since most of the time, our circumstances change daily. The "right" decisions may be clear in the moment when we make them, but they don't stay that way for long.

I used to pride myself on my clarity--I used to be sure so often about people, about choices, about life. But sometimes, clarity is more about compromise than about certainty. We can't always be sure about what we are seeing, but we can choose to look closely enough to to find our own clarity.

To be clear, our choices must incorporate not just the expected, but the actual. To be clear, our decisions must recognize the changes that are inevitable. To be clear, our view must include not just what we see, but what we can't yet see as well.

Clarity isn't the simple matter that it used to be. But that doesn't have to leave us fuzzy headed. Rather, the difference in clarity can leave us even more opportunities to be clear. With a shout over all the chaos, we can choose to be clear. With a step away from some of the confusion, we can decide to be clear. With a push through the obstacles, we can choose to be clear.

Well, at least 21% of the time...

Deja Vu

We had a guest with us for the weekend. And while we mostly did what we do, and went where we go, we did so with a particular awareness of making sure we showed her particular things about our weekend experience, I guess much in the same way that you might take your city visitor to the Empire State Building and Central Park. What I noticed, however, as we traveled to our favorite country places, was that our guest seemed to be showing us as much as we were showing her. As we drove, she reminded us about how startling the country scenery and sky are. As we relaxed between adventures, she reminded us how special the space to spread out and the grass between your toes can be. As we got lost on winding country roads, she reminded us that getting lost is okay, as long as you have good company.
 
Sometimes, the things and places that we see all the time are completely different when we see them through someone else's eyes. What we have already seen (deja vu) is new again, because we are able to appreciate it as if for the first time. We may think that we are giving our guest the gift of sharing what is special to us, but it turns out that our guest actually gives us more of a gift--that of showing us all the things in our lives that we have forgotten to see.
 
Having a little deja vu? Maybe you have already seen, but chances are, it wasn't in quite the same way.

Recycled

Years of school notebooks and papers made their way out of our home and into the recycling bin this week. Mine? No. Mine (well, at least some of them) are still alive and well in my childhood home. Thankfully, as we live in a NYC apartment, my children are much less attached than I am...

In a NYC apartment, you can't really hold on to every essay you ever wrote (even if your mom wants to hold on to every toddler sentence you ever scribbled).

In a childhood filled with Instagram and Snapchat, you're not used to saving forever. And, I suppose, you actually relish the thought of eliminating the reminders of moments you didn't really like that much anyway.

In a world that has Google, it will clearly be much easier to find a country's capital with a few keystrokes than with a search through several semesters worth of notes.

In a life that goes so quickly, sometimes it's just easier to store less and enjoy more.

Years of school papers and notebooks made their way out of our apartment and into the recycling bin this week. But the memories from them (well, at least the ones we'd like to remember) are still right where we left them.

Those Recent Summers

As I arrive home from an overnight shift and sleep through half of my summer day, I can't help but think of all the days of summers past. At this time some recent summers, I was bemoaning the end of a job or agonizing about a too-long stretch of no job at all. At this time some recent summers, I was sleeping through half of my summer day, not because I'd been working all night, but because I couldn't face another stretch of brilliant cover letters followed by deafening silence, or another stretch of uncertainty about whether I'd be working, and whether I'd be paid.

There are days when I question a life that has me sleeping, or sleepwalking, through my days. But when I look back to those other summers, the sleep looks pretty good. When I look back to those recent summers, I am reminded that a little perspective goes a long way. When I look back to those recent summers, I am grateful for a summer that, most of the time, gives me something of value, both in my bank account and with my family.

I am close enough to those recent summers to know that they were not "the good old days." Maybe, in some ways, there is no such thing as "the good old days." Those recent summers may have had their moments, but today, I'll stick with this "right now" summer--sleeping when I can, and appreciating the relative stability that no recent summer has shown me.

Until this one, like all the others, becomes just another recent summer...

Loosely Planned

In soaps, what aired was the result of weeks, if not months, of writing, pre-production, production, and post. While changes might sometimes occur close to air, stories and scenes were largely well-planned, starting with tiny sentences in a long story document and ending with, if necessary, shifting of scenes to make sure that all shows ran the correct length and that the most dramatic content would air on the most watched days.

Such planning trickled down to my life. Efficient planning made for some years of free, or short, summer Friday's. Advance planning had us shooting Christmas episodes before Thanksgiving (and by the end, closer to Halloween!). A cost-conscious calendar laid out dark weeks way in advance, and invited cost-conscious vacation planning (that is, whenever I actually took vacation).

News, where I live at the moment, is a much less planned endeavor. While certain events live on the calendar, many, many just happen, requiring more staff or less, lots of hours or not so many. And, as I am discovering, the lack of planning trickles down to me too. I am rarely sure when I will go somewhere, or for how long. I allow a lot of room for recovery sleep, which I sometimes need and sometimes don't. I am slow to make plans, as I am never quite sure when and how things will change. It may not be better or worse--it is just different. A different way to think, a different way to live. Just different.

And so, I meander through my less planned life, managing today, and tomorrow, and when possible, next month. They are all just more steps. Steps in the ongoing saga of being not washed up yet...

Getting In, Part 13: Practice

My college-bound child (okay, adult, but still my child) has been so busy that I joke that we are practicing for her being away when she leaves for college. One fewer plate at the table, one day that doesn't get discussed, one fewer set of whereabouts to track. And practice is good. Practice makes us better. Practice, as some would say, makes perfect.

I talk about our "practice" with a smile and a laugh, but I don't feel better, and I certainly don't feel as though I am perfecting anything. When it is time for the real thing, I imagine I will be grateful for this trial run, but right now, I just miss the plate at the table and the day we're not discussing. When it is time for the real thing, perhaps it will feel not so unreal for us all, but right now, it feels unreal, and too real, and just a little more dizzying than I'd like.

Once again, I--we all, actually--are faced with the fact that "getting in" isn't really just about "getting in." Today it is about "letting go." And "hanging on." And "working out." And today is just the practice...

Passing The Torch

You worry that you're not doing enough, not being around, not making yourself available. And then you see how much happens just fine--maybe even better--without you.

You worry that you haven't taught enough, listened enough, shared enough. And then you see how many ideas have grown all by themselves (perhaps with the help of the teaching and listening and sharing that you did do).

You wonder if you should have hovered more and yelled less. And then you discover that with or without the hovering or yelling, things have turned out just fine.

You fear that you haven't encouraged enough, accepted enough, understood enough. And then you learn that there will always be more encouraging, accepting, and understanding to do.

You think that maybe you haven't been the grownup often enough. And then you see that those little people you were the grownup for are managing just fine becoming grownups themselves.

You believe that there is so much left to do, and maybe there is. But you've done more than you think, and the torch is in good hands.