Life has a beautiful fluidity and freshness we cannot control. But it so generously lets us play with, marvel at, and try to understand it as it constantly adds and subtracts things to create the sum total of our life experience. I’m now truly enamored with its predictable way of throwing curve balls, pulling the rug out from under us, and giving my practice such vibrancy that I feel like boredom can be nothing but fleeting.
Yet, with a capital “Y,” I struggle with understanding the new things that creep into my life or the “old” stuff that just keeps paying me a visit. I’m smart, educated and passionate about learning and understanding the world around me. I’m not running from life’s lessons.
But some things are easier to understand than others. I have those “oh…now I get it!” moments. However, some things initially show up as so one-dimensional that I cannot see the depth or meaning behind them. I think I’ve figured it out based on what I see, but then it comes back, maybe bigger than before, requiring a second attempt. I didn’t figure it out. For some experiences, this can go on for months with multiple attempts. Others can take years to understand. (For the record, I think this is the norm).
It now seems that how I try to understand plays a crucial role in breaking the cycle. Experience has shown me that I either tap & refuel my energy (almost in tandem) or I sap my energy when confronted with the unknown. I am either nourished and energized to learn, or I am depleted by trying to understand something new/what’s old showing up in new guise. Pinning down the answer seems so important. That emphasis draws energy.
I think understanding is important. But I also think it’s not meant to drain us.
Life is a series of experiences and lessons. And in yoga we learn that what we don’t resolve or understand fully will keep showing up until we “get it.” It’s the nature of life. We all face something new and unknown every day. It may be small or seem insignificant, but it’s there. Even if we all hunkered down inside, each day would be different. It’s unavoidable. And I think that freshness and newness, even if unpleasant and challenging sometimes, is there for a reason.
So each day I have a chance to see what I ought to see by sustaining my energy reserve and contributing to the collective energy or by pulling on too many resources at once. I can cultivate the quiet energy needed, learn my lessons, and show others how to do the same. Or, I can drag my way through experiences- maybe or maybe not “getting it.” Either way, new situations will keep showing up. After all (and worth repeating), life is foreseeably dynamic and we have our batch of lessons to learn.
How do we cultivate the kind of quiet energy that sustains us, nourishes others and allows us to understand the new things we encounter? How do we demonstrate and teach that to the children in our lives?
I re-read the children’s book Seven Blind Mice by Ed Young recently. I’m always struck by something in this short story about seven mice who tried to identify something they could not see. The first six mice concentrated their energy on the part of the object they felt right away. Once they all reported their findings, they argued about who was correct. The seventh mouse though took her time and wandered along the entire object, internally envisioning the scale, dimension and outline of it while adding up and considering what others noticed.
She placed more value on the process. She took in all that could be “seen” rather than jump to a conclusion. She was accurate. Afterwards, she didn’t need to argue or defend herself; the other mice followed her example to draw the same conclusion. Her result spoke for itself. The truth is the truth. She “got it.”
The seventh mouse’s approach highlights the attitude and tools I think I (and many of us) benefit from adopting- especially when trying to understand something new. She reminds me to: leave guessing and speculation aside and just notice. Guessing and speculation all too often sap our energy and yield inaccurate findings. I can notice all, however, by following her lead:
- Slowing down.
- Focusing on the process. It naturally brings a quiet and discerning energy.
- Combining what someone else sees, experiences or feels with what I experience.
Ed Young has rekindled my belief that we have simple, universal tools available to achieve collective quiet energy and work toward understanding. I believe his story resonates with so many because many of us have played all roles. We’ve been the rushed mice focused on outcome, believing we’ve figured something out. And we’ve been the seventh mouse who faces the unknown with a fluid, quiet energy, notices as much as possible, and helps others see how their perspective is just one piece of the whole.
I can use the three tools he highlights as I undertake everyday activities, complete my yoga and meditation practices, and share practices with others, including children, all while living from a place grounded in quiet energy- even if confronted with the unknown. I can slow down. I can see the whole. I can augment my understanding and help others experience something they haven’t on their own. I can feel less drained, have the energy to nourish others, and move through hours, days and years with greater ease, even though life will keep giving me lessons to understand. I can model a slower, quieter energy to children as well. I can better move with the flow of things, hear what others bring to conversation- not as something to deflect or reject- but to help inform everyone’s understanding.
Namaste, Ed Young, for reminding us that simply noticing can help us navigate the fluidity and curveballs of life.
(Check out the I’m Thinking of a Pose game for K-5th graders inspired by Seven Blind Mice!)
