Say Yes

The little girl is about six years old, Asian, and adorable.  She is sitting in the child seat of a grocery cart in line ahead of me at Trader Joe’s.  She and her mom are fourth in line; I am fifth.  It’s Friday, about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and the store is pandemonium.  I hear lots of grumbling around me about how “I guess I didn’t beat the rush.” And “when is this place not overwhelmed?”

Technically, the little girl is eating crackers.  What she thinks she is doing is something different, however. She is conducting an experiment on how many different ways she can get her mouth to work.  Big slit sideways, ear to ear, trying to get the cracker to go down without her lips meeting.  Then making her mouth a wide-open “O”. Then crunching with one side of her jaw, and then the other.  Then nose scrunched up; front teeth nibbling like a squirrel.  The success with which she ingests the cracker varies widely, method to method.  I watch fascinated, wondering how many variations she’s going to come up with.  We lock eyes, and the face-splitting grin reappears.  She is delighted with this experiment, and herself.  “See,” she seems to be saying.  “See what I am discovering?”

About that time, mom turns around and notices me having a moment with her daughter.  “She is adorable,” I say.  “I shouldn’t give her snacks this close to dinner,” mom sighs wearily.  “I just need to get through this chore without a meltdown.”  I say something sympathetic about doing what you have to do.  I remember the days of trying to parent young children while getting through the rest of the to-do list. 

Mom is like every other adult in this store—frazzled, distracted, annoyed by the crowd, dismayed that a quick stop at TJ’s is taking so much longer than expected. And, all too quickly, jumping to a feeling of failure.  “Look at

me! I cannot even grocery shop without caving in and spoiling my daughter’s dinner.” What I want to say is: Maybe you’re not spoiling her dinner, but giving her an adventure of self-discovery.  Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.  In the crush, there’s no opportunity.  I just say: She looks happy.

Carson walked early, before he turned one.   I’ve often thought this was part of his restless quest for independence.  From the earliest age, he wanted to be master of his own destiny, and became really unhappy when he wasn’t. One of the most dramatic effects of his early ambulation: stroller walks around the block, which used to take 15 minutes, stretched to an hour or more once he was walking on his own.  Every crack, every dandelion, every bug—all of it became an archeological expedition.  No detail was too small to escape his notice.  He’d squat down, knees splayed wide, butt sitting on his heels, intensely examining something I couldn’t even see. God help us if we encountered something really wondrous, like a guy with a leaf blower.  When I stopped being the driver of a stroller, and started being the companion of a toddler, life slowed down.  I tried to settle in and enjoy this, because it was really hard for us to build our family.  I even succeeded at the slow down, sometimes. 

Paddling in Costa Rica, Carson in front, naturally

At this point in my life, I spend a lot of time on mindfulness.  I meditate, take walks in nature, journal about intentions and gratitude.  I work at living in the moment.  But when did that stop being natural and start being work?  How is it that there is such a mismatch between our life cycles and our to-do lists?  As a kid, when the list isn’t long, we don’t have a lot of the stress that comes later. But we do have time to engage in all the many ways that naturally fight it.

In middle age, we are perhaps our busiest --- striving to build careers that have yet to reach terminal velocity.  At the same time, we may have family or other personal obligations that take enormous energy.  And then, the stress of the mismatch: too much to do and too little time.

As I round my own third base of life, there has been a re-alignment. I am awake to the fact that my time is mine to spend. I can fill my days—mostly—with things that make my heart sing.  I don’t just get to live in the moment.  I get to define it.   In this, I am one of the luckiest people I know.

Last weekend, I got to revisit another singular time of life. My friend and former boss asked me to give a talk to a group of teenagers from the Stanford Catholic community.  My topic: Unitarian Universalism—what it is and why I practice it.  In a batting order that included Judaism, Hinduism, Mormonism and other world religions, the faith community I represented was by far the smallest.  I got asked because Michele knows I can deliver a talk, and because she knows about our church, having visited once.   

Michele told me the kids might be shy, so I started how I always do—engage the audience by getting them talking first.  I asked: what about this survey of world religions has been most interesting to you? Many answered, a few passed—which I had invited them to do if they chose.

It soon became clear: shyness was not going to be a problem. Especially in the Q & A, I got grilled.   

 Q: Do you guys have Easter? A: A lot of Unitarians celebrate Easter as a time of rebirth.  But we don’t see Jesus as a redeemer, whose death and resurrection were essential to our salvation, because we don’t believe in the concept of original sin. For most of us, Jesus is an important leader in human history, but not the son of God. 

Q: You say UUs see love as a spiritual discipline, but we had that first: “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”   A:  Good point.  There are a lot of fundamental things that show up across many religions.

Q: Do you have saints? A: Not really.  We have leaders we revere, but we don’t consider them divine.

Q: What are your services like?  A: Eclectic. Your church has a liturgy that is predictable—a certain text for every day.  We believe in drawing meaning from many sources.  In one service, we may hear from Jesus, Buddha, Oliver Wendell Holmes and John Lennon. 

Q: Who is John Lennon? 

So much for my attempt at topical relevance.

Giving this talk was really fun. I did not have all the answers and said so.  Which I think the kids appreciated.

The last question I got asked “Why are you here?”

“You mean here on the planet?” I ask.

“No,” replies the boy.  “Here today.  Talking to us.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” I say.  “Because someone I like and admire asked me to.  And, because whenever I get a chance to understand myself better, I try to say yes.  You guys gave me that chance today.  So thank you.  I really appreciate you.”

 For awhile, my life motto has been Show Up. Thanks to the teens of the Stanford Catholic community, I have another line to add: Say YES! as often as you can. 

When life presents you with an opportunity to go deeper, take it.  Whether it’s a dive into your own beliefs, something that seems impossible, or an exploration of your miraculous mouth.  Say yes.