No longer and not yet

As a music teacher, part of my job is to teach rhythm.  For many students the notes come easy and the rhythm is hard.  For others, the rhythm comes naturally and learning the notes is a battle.   I love teaching rhythm.  I teach the student to verbalize the rhythm, clap it, tap it and play it.  It is easy to make games and make learning fun.  After awhile I let the students tap out the rhythms on their own, looking at a pattern of notation.  I find that one of the hardest things are for students to observe the rests in the pattern.

Silence is a powerful tool in music.  The space between sounds and notes can make one hungry for more.  It can make also make an impact leaving time for one to think about what has come before the rests.  Rests of any length create an energy, stopping the flow of sound.  Without the rests music would not stop from beginning to end.

I have learned a lot about myself in the past couple years.  I actually keep a list to review for a couple reasons:  one, because there has been much to absorb and two, it is hard to remember everything and keep it fresh.  Learning and integrating what I have learned takes reminders.  I have found not all lessons are learned the first time.  Not all characteristics are noted cognitively and internalized in one circumstance.  Not all emotions can be analyzed until the tide of emotion has gone out and thinking has taken place in a more peaceful moment.  Sometimes it takes repeated tries for a new skill or awareness to sink in.  Being human can be frustrating (spoken like  a closet perfectionist)!

One thing I have learned about myself is that I can be impatient much like some of my music students and not want to honor the space between no longer and not yet in my life.

So much can happen in that space.

Processing.  Peace.  Breathing.  Sleep.  Joy.  Being mindful.  Listening.  Forgiveness.  Acceptance.  Silence. 

If I get impatient or excited and want to move to the next thing, or shorten the period of rest to a shorter rest than what is deserved, then I miss the impact that the rest can have in me.  I not only will miss the impact, but might not learn the entire lesson I need to learn.  I am learning that a fermata (a hold) over the rest, the space that is between what was and what will be is something that doesn't stop the growth in my life, but accelerates how cognizant I become of what I am learning.  Resting allows me to be mindful of the lesson and gives me the time to integrate what I am learning.  It forces to me wait on my myself or others and not move on to the new thought, the new habit, the new issue that needs to be addressed.

Some people call this place the waiting room.  Some people call this a plateau.  Some call it a rest.  I call it the place between what was and what is yet to be.  Regardless of what you call it...the value of honoring that space is undeniable.

Sometimes you gotta go

Every day I head outside at some point and look for my two horses.  Usually they aren't in the paddock or barn unless it is raining or snowing.  Usually they are in the pasture doing what they love to do -- eat.  

Now let me tell you a bit about my two four legged friends.  They both are geldings.  For you who are non-horse people  -- that means they are male.  They are older than 15 years.  We don't have paperwork on them and bought them from people who didn't raise them -- so with horses it's a guess of age by looking at physical signs.  That being said -- they have been around a few years.  We rescued Ryker last fall on our honeymoon.  He came to us starved -- about 400 pounds or more underweight and hungry.  VERY hungry.  We started loving on him, which for him meant feeding him.   I spent time with him, groomed him, and took him on walks on a lead rope.   It was weeks before I tried to get on his back.  He lacked muscle tone and stability.  Over time, he started to gain weight and I started exercising with him (basically he trotted -- I jogged beside him).  He was my buddy and always looked for me.  When I called -- he would come in an instant because my presence equated food.  

Enter Casanova onto the scene a few months later.  He is a paint mix breed.  Beautiful and stout and in great shape.  He quickly made friends with Ryker -- and now they are best buddies and don't like to be separated in any way -- especially in the pastures or on the trail or even if I am working with one -- the other is calling "Where are you???" from the stall.

So lately, as I go out to greet them and give them a little grain and a little loving each day -- I find that sometimes  Ryker doesn't come right away any more.   After a year of good feeding and exercise, Ryker has gained his weight back and is able to carry extra weight and be ridden.   I find that when I call, he doesn't come as readily.  In my opinion, he acts as though he is content with his pasture and friend and doesn't  seem to "need" my extra attention (as I try to personalize his behaviour).  Nevertheless, on those days when he hears me, and looks at me from across the pastureland and acknowledges me, but doesn't start moving towards me -- I call again and wait.  Then I call one more time and wait.  Some days, it just takes a second call.  Some days, it takes a third call.  Some days, he doesn't come at all -- and I go out to him.

I go out to him.  

Now some people would say -- that horse should come to you every time.  And part of me believes that.  But part of me says - why should he have to come to me all the time?  Why shouldn't I show him that I want to be with him -- and put forth the effort?  So on those days, I do put forth the effort.  I head out with a handful of grain or a carrot or just a smile and friendly words and find him wherever he might be.

As I have been thinking of good friendships and relationships this week, it struck me that if I want people in my life, I need to go to them.  But also, they need to come to me.  Healthy relationships don't end when one person stops being needy.  I believe both people can be healthy and still keep compromising, still reach for one another's presence in order to stay connected.  If we want someone in our life, we can't expect them to do all the reaching, nor can we do all the reaching.  It takes effort on both sides.  

Now, what would happen if I never made the effort to go out to the pasture?  Ryker would be fine with his grass.  He would be happy with his buddy Casanova and their relationship.  But our connection over time would fade if he didn't make the effort to see me or I didn't make the effort to see him.  Life would move on -- but a friendship would be lost.

Time to head out to the pasture...and find my friend.

Humanness

I must admit something out loud today.  On paper. 

I am HUMAN.

I am "imperfect, flawed and ordinary" - in the words of Trudy Archambeau.

Therefore, I make mistakes.  I mess up.  I sin.  I err.  I fail and fail miserably.

It's another one of those things I have learned about myself and for some reason at times it is VERY hard to admit.

Being human sometimes looks like me beating myself up over bad choices I have made.  Being human sometimes looks like me doing the happy dance (with little coordination) celebrating a good choice I have made.  Being human means realizing when I have come to the end of myself and I CAN'T.  (Not that I won't try -- cause I was wired to try and try and try again.)  Can't = the realization that whatever I am attempting is beyond my capabilities (like lifting 100 pound bags of anything).

In my life I have had plenty of time to look back at past choices (good and bad)  and see the path that came from making them.  I can trace how my life path changed because of this or that action.  I can look back and feel sadness or joy.  Either one makes me contemplate.  I will be very honest here and say that I have a tendency to focus on the negative choices I have made over the years.   I wonder what life would be like if I hadn't made the choices I have.  Some decisions were "worse" than others in my mind...but alas, that is the human speaking in me.  Errors are errors.  There is no small or big error.  It's an error.  Good choices are good choices.  Bad choices are bad choices. 

In wanting to be healthy and move forward in my life, I need to remember not to" cling to the past mistakes no matter how much time I spent making them" (Dr. Laura).  I see the mistake.  I know the mistake.  I lived the mistake.  I chose the mistake.  I acknowledge my part of them.  I even confess and take responsibility  (whatever that might look like) for my choice.  Then, I need to remember -- LOOK FORWARD and MOVE ON working at not to repeating the same mistake.  I can't cling to the mistake I made 25 years ago -- if I did how healthy would I be?  I wouldn't be healthy at all.  I believe nothing is gained from reliving the past over and over and over.  So that being said, I am learning there is a time and place, alas, a season for everything. (Ecclesiastes 3 - or in the days of the old 45's - I would play that record over and over - the  song Turn! Turn! Turn! By THE BYRDS). 

There is a time for everything.  EVERYTHING.  That means the opposite of my previous paragraphs are true.  I can't dwell on past choices that have brought me joy either.  I can't cling to them...and hold them in high esteem and not move forward.  I cannot relive the past and be stuck in that one grand moment.  It is time for new thoughts.  New experiences.  New horizons.  New joys.  New paths created by my choices or making good choices to stay on the same path.  I need to acknowledge my part in them.  Confess them.  Acknowledge they are a part of my life path and MOVE ON.

For me, growth looks like accepting my humanness...the negative AND the positive.