Capturing Zen

This afternoon, I read this quote:

“You’re not behind in your own life.”

I’ll tell you how I saw it, so you can go read it for yourself, and if you speak French, you can also read the other quote that was shared. Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, also known as the Yarn Harlot, whose books I have long adored, and now whose Instagram account gives me great joy, posted a photo of two little notes found at a restaurant, where there are drawers of encouraging notes in the dining tables. I think this is an amazing concept, and this note (written in English) really struck me. When I relayed it to Martin, he said, “that’s perfect for you!” And it is.

The feeling of being behind is a constant struggle for me. Not just behind, but also not-enough, less-than, distracted-from-my-purpose, and of course, the number one: FAILURE. There are so many things I have wanted to do in my life. Now at my midpoint, I see I have accomplished very little. That word: accomplished. What does that even mean? At its Latin root, complere, it is to complete something. (I looked that up.) Further English definitions include aspects of being highly skilled, highly trained, or “above average.” (I also looked that up.) Whew, that sounds like a lot of pressure, and I don’t do well with pressure. I’ve dabbled in a few things here and there, I’ve succeeded in small tasks, achieved some small victories, I even have some talents and skills—but I would not call myself “accomplished.”

But being definitively NOT an accomplished person isn’t really an existential problem; the problem is that I care. I care that I haven’t done some of the things I’ve wanted to do. I care that other people HAVE done the things I’ve wanted to do. I care that instead of doing some of those things, my time has been spent hanging laundry and planting tomatoes. Why do I care? Why do I value one beautiful action over another? I’m very good at gratitude, I often feel the words “my cup overfloweth” in the depths of my being, and I don’t have anything to complain about. I have no real problems. My kids are great, my husband is great, we have a home, food, safety. The fact that I can walk out my own back door into my own backyard and see the sunflowers that I planted with my daughters is a tremendous blessing, one that many many many people in the world would covet, nevermind that the back door is broken and the sunflowers bow their golden heads to a trash-filled alley. Those simple things are everything, and I know it, and every day I am thankful. I live in a state of abundance—why do I desire accomplishments?

I’m trying to turn my way of thinking away from how “behind” I am in my life achievements, and to instead recognize what skills I have that others might not possess, the skills that nobody really considers accomplishments, but that provide happiness and grounding.

I’ll start with this squirrel I’m watching right now. It took me about seven minutes to type out that one long run-on sentence in the above paragraph (that sentence is, in fact, the entire paragraph) because there was a squirrel in the honeysuckle (invasive! But a habitat for animals and children!) that was being so cute that I just had to stop typing to watch it creeping slowly down the trunk. It reached the ground, found a walnut, and balanced itself precariously on a very wobbly rotten log to eat its nut. As I watched it I wondered what I should use to train it to eat out of my hand—would it prefer whole peanuts, shelled peanuts, or sunflower seeds? Or maybe popcorn? I thought of how neat it would be if, when we eat dinner on the patio, we could also feed little morsels to the squirrels we’d tamed, not tossing bits to them, but setting a little place at the table. Bowls of soup, a pitcher of water, a bottle of wine, and a little plate of peanuts for our honored guest.

BUT THEN. Then I thought, what if the squirrel came to EXPECT food, even if we had none to offer? What if he started getting violent when we had nothing for him? It could only end badly. I mean, hello—RABIES.

That’s when I decided to refocus on this Substack post and leave the dream of becoming an “Accomplished Squirrel Trainer” behind.

Number two on the list of Talents Nobody Cares About: staring at flowers. If “Accomplished Flower Admirer” were a bullet point on a resume, boy would I be a top candidate. The other day I found myself staring out the window at the Rose of Sharon, which drapes itself rather awkwardly over our sidewalk, but is beautiful nonetheless. I thought of how I look forward every year to its blooms, and how glad I am that it keeps blooming all through July and August. Such a bright spot of color! I stared at it for so long that I needed a snack, so I got myself a bowl of apples

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RECIPE BREAK

-as many apples as you like, sliced.

-one half lemon

-salt

-pepper

-sugar (optional)

Put sliced apples in a bowl with the squeeze of lemon, pinch of salt, pinch of pepper, pinch of sugar if so desired, stir up and ENJOY.

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and I sat eating my apples while admiring the flowering tree. Sylvi came up and then I had the joy of admiring my favorite tree, and my child, AND eating lemony apples all at once, and I ask you, what else is there to accomplish in this life??

Also, I got a snake out of the house the other night. I’m good at getting Animals Which Don’t Belong in Houses out of houses. Specifically, out of my house. The fact that my husband works from 6pm-6am is a pretty big bummer, but it’s allowed me many skill-building opportunities, as it is usually within these hours that the critters the cats have brought in during the day feel safe enough to come out of their hiding places. Except for the birds—those are often in the house in the daytime when my husband is also useless because he’s asleep. I’m an excellent bird grabber. They don’t even need to be trained with peanuts, they just fly in and make themselves at home.

Another underrated skill: Burying One’s Face in Line-Dried Clothing. I don’t know how this could be a Summer Olympic sport, but if it were, I would take home the Gold. The Winter Olympic version of this sport would be Burying One’s Face in Cat.

I’m also moderately good at identifying birds and trees. I know a few plants, probably more than the average 41 year old American woman. Same goes for bugs. Well, bugs of the Midwest. Okay, bugs of Mid-North Indiana. Or at least in my yard. Alright, scratch that, I’m no good at bugs.

But I DO like seeing butterflies!

So, anyhow, my goal is to see these things that I’m good at doing as “ACCOMPLISHMENTS” instead of just bad habits, or worthless skills, or in the case of getting critters out, sort of useful. It’s all in the mindset. The Chinese meaning of “Zen” is “quietude,” in Japanese, it is “meditation.” Ignoring the fact that one year I tried to give up over-talking for Lent and didn’t even make it through Ash Wednesday without failing, I love the term “quietude” and if my flower-staring and squirrel dreaming habits are any indication of success, my friends, I am not wasting time, nor am I behind in my own life. I am EXCELLING.