Y’all…
It’s been a crazy couple of weeks in my life—and that’s aside from all the stuff going on in the rest of the world.
The Illness
Over the weekend before Labor Day weekend, my daughter started having upper respiratory symptoms that were specific to probably half a hundred illnesses—and, of course, to COVID-19. We kept her home from school that Monday and began preparing ourselves for the possibility of keeping her and her brother home for the required quarantine periods … and for the potential of keeping them home instead of having the special birthday celebration that was a few days away.
We were able to get our little girl in to see our health practitioner on Tuesday, who confirmed that she was suffering from allergies. (Unlike myself, her father, and her brother, our daughter doesn’t normally suffer from allergies, but the pollen levels had been so high for so long that just about everyone around where we live was suffering.) With that clarification and confirmation, we got the appropriate medicines for her, got both kids back in school on Wednesday, and then started our preparations for weekend travel.
The Amusement Park
My husband and I started a tradition for our daughter’s fifth birthday: we took her to an amusement park so she could have time with just us, away from her brother, doing fun. This year is going to be her brother’s fifth birthday, and they decided they wanted to go together, rather than separately, so we made our reservations in May, as our state was beginning to once again open in stages after a COVID-19 shelter-in-place order.
We made reservations for an October weekend, when the park runs a special Halloween program. We chose this time because we wanted smaller crowds to handle the kids in (have I ever mentioned how rambunctious our son is, especially after noon?!), and the weekend coincided with the beginning of their fall break, so we’d have plenty of recovery time. But then, about three weeks ago, I saw a notice that a few days before, the park had canceled this program for the year. I had not received personal word about this—no one emailed, no one called.
My mind started imagining what would have happened if I had not seen this notice: we would have shown up in the middle of October to an empty parking lot, wondering just what the heck had happened, with two very upset children. I thanked my lucky stars that I had seen this notice, and then I began trying to make contact with the park to figure out if I could get a refund.
Because of safety measures put in place for COVID-19, the park’s policy this year has been that tickets are date-specific—and there are no refunds, except in special circumstances. The people at this park are amazing, so we received a refund and then bought (more expensive) tickets for Labor Day weekend—the only other chance we would have to go that wouldn’t require our kids to miss a day of school (the park is not local to us). I was disappointed that we would not get to experience the Halloween fun, and also that we would also miss out on the gathering that my parents were going to have on that day. (They’ve had this gathering nearly every year since before I was born, and it’s rare for me to not be part of it.) But boy, was I relieved that my children weren’t going to be completely disappointed!
We traveled on that Saturday and stayed overnight with my folks. On Sunday morning, we woke up early and helped my folks with some of the preparation for their gathering, and then we left for the amusement park. The kids were in high spirits, but almost as soon as we got inside the park, drama began. I won’t go into the specifics, but if you’ve had children, I’m sure you can imagine. Suffice it to say that we had an eight-year-old girl and an almost-five-year-old boy who were tired, hot, cranky, and not afraid to tell us exactly—and repeatedly—what they wanted and how unhappy they were when that wasn’t happening fast enough or living up to their expectations.
But my husband and I went with the flow as much as possible. We got their tempers evened out with judicious application of food and distraction, and the rest of the day went pretty well—barring my son running around like a loon at the end of the day in the middle of a crowd and tripping a woman—who was, thankfully, young, flexible, and resilient. We thanked our lucky stars that the situation hadn’t been worse, and we called it a day. Both kids were exhausted, but happy, as we had “spoiled” them in a way not typical of our parenting style, because the entire family and a few friends had been very generous when contributing money to this year’s trip. (For birthdays and Christmas, we request money in lieu of toys so the kids can have special experiences, rather than our house get cluttered with more toys.) We drove back to my parents’ place, said hello to the few people who were still there, and then went straight to bed. I don’t think the sun had even set yet.
The next day, we traveled home again and prepared to face the week.
The Radio Interview
I am writing this post on September 9, about an hour after I was supposed to have a live radio interview about Wych Elm and the services I provide. I had spent hours over the previous weeks preparing myself for the discussion. The appointed time for the interview came and went, and no one had called. Just as I was about to try to call to figure out what was going on, my phone rang, and we started the interview. About a minute in, I was disconnected. The call ended. I have no idea what happened. I waited for about 20 minutes, hoping someone would call me back, even as I tried to call the station back. No results.
I’m not going to lie—I’m disappointed. I’d been posting on social media about the upcoming interview, I’d been telling people about it in person, and I’d written to everyone on my mailing list about it. This had seemed like such a great opportunity. I had hoped the interview would bring more attention to Wych Elm and help me attract more of my ideal clients.
I’m trying to take a calm, balanced view, looking at this as indicating that the timing just isn’t right. But I’m still disappointed. I have left messages for the radio network, to see if we can reschedule or if this was a one-time thing, but I haven’t yet received a response.
The Potential Lessons
As I sit here, reflecting on the events I’ve just recounted, I realize they all have an element of disappointment. And disappointment comes about, ultimately, from expectation. Buddha said that suffering in life comes from attachment.
When I was in my twenties and first learning about Buddhism, I did not understand this, but now I have come to understand that Buddha was referring to attachment to specific outcomes–in other words, expectations. How do you “get over” and “deal with” the loss of probably 70% or 80% of your vision and the resulting loss of freedom of movement? You learn how to stop being attached to outcomes. You start to look at everything that comes your way as a gift: either something you really wanted (which you are usually really happy about in the moment) or an opportunity for learning and self-improvement (which you are usually very unhappy about in the moment).
To make powerful choices, I must stop the noise in my head.
—Patricia Missakian
For my daughter’s illness, we resolved the potential disappointment at having to keep both kids home for weeks by looking realistically at the situation and recognizing that we needed answers. We needed to take our daughter to a health practitioner and have her assessed, and possibly tested for COVID-19, so we could know how to move forward appropriately.
In the case of the amusement park, rather than focus on the fact that I had received no official word about the cancellation of the event we had tickets for, I looked at alternate solutions. I prepared myself for the possibility of telling the kids that their birthday trip was canceled and that we would have to celebrate in some other way. I prepared myself for the fact that we might just be out a not-insignificant amount of money. In short, I tried my hardest not to be tied to a specific outcome—that being the weekend that we had been envisioning for months. Even as I started making moves to try to figure out how to salvage the situation, I prayed for the best possible outcome, trying to keep myself from becoming too attached to any one outcome.
You might be familiar with the prayer “Not my will, but Thy will, be done.” It’s a handy one I use to keep my ego out of the picture, but in this situation, I was trying to focus on the highest good of all, remembering to keep my mind and heart open to the possibilities, rather than be that guy to whom God has to say, “I sent three damn boats!”[1] The Universe sends us help in all sorts of ways, but if we are too attached to what our help “should” look like, we can miss out on a lot. Imagine that the kids dragged their feet in getting ready for school and we were late leaving the house by five minutes, then got stuck in a traffic jam for two hours. If we became miffed by this, we could fail to recognize the fact that if we had left on time, we might have been part of that accident that caused the traffic jam.
Not my will, but Thy will, be done
So, yeah, I’ve been trying to stay open to the potential lesson or to recognize that all of this—or at least some of it—might just be a blessing in disguise.
I’m keeping in mind the guidance I received about this month’s energy, and I’m asking for help and I asking myself, “Where’s the lesson in this?” And I’m reminding myself to stay open to Divine guidance for the next steps, because I know the Universe always guides me in the best path when I ask for direction and keep myself open to the possibilities.
Many times, you go to a place with a certain expectation. And then when you get there, you’re going to be disappointed. Good. Be disappointed. Disappointment is just an epiphany in disguise.
—Gordon Hempton
Note
[1] This is one of my favorite jokes, and I treat it almost like a proverb: A town is flooding. As the water begins to fill his first floor, a man climbs to his second floor. A neighbor comes by in a boat and offers to take the man to safety. “No thank you,” the man says. “God will save me.” The water continues to rise, and the man climbs onto his roof. Another neighbor comes by in yet another boat and offers to take the man to safety. Once again, the man says, “No thank you. My god will save me.” The water continues to rise, so the man is forced to sit on the very pinnacle of the roof. A third neighbor comes by in a boat and offers to take the man to safety. The man replies, yet again, “No thank you. God will save me.” Finally, the man drowns and is admitted to Heaven. When he is finally introduced to God, he asks sadly, “God, why didn’t you save me? I had tremendous faith, and you let me down.” God, somewhat miffed, answers, “I sent you three damn boats!”
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