A perfect weekend
It had been a perfect weekend. My husband and I were up in New Hampshire with friends. Our only plan was to enjoy the fall foliage. With very little schedule and no real itinerary, we were somehow managing to be in just the right place at just the right time.
- As we drove across the Kancamagus Highway, the angle of the sunlight on the mountain side was just perfect, making the yellow and red leaves glow in ways they wouldn’t later in the day.
- We wandered into our favorite brewery and immediately found a seat – only to look up ten minutes later to realize the place was standing room only.
- We stopped for a snack at a place that advertised fresh apple cider donuts and picked up a half-dozen. The last half-dozen.
- When we arrived at the Mt. Washington auto road, we wondered what all the pylons were for as we drove right up to pay our toll. (When we came back down, there was a long line of cars snaking through those same pylons.)
- Despite the weather app saying it was actually currently raining, we had a gorgeous walk and sun-dappled drive to an orchard.
- Just when we wanted to be curled up in front of the fire, Mother Nature turned on her spigots and it began to rain.
Honestly, I can’t count the times we marveled to one another over three days, “Can you believe our timing?”
A less than perfect Monday
Then came Monday – our friends’ last day. It was awful out. Cold and misty with periodic rain. The leaf-peeping drive we’d planned was beautiful, but the narrow roads prevented spontaneous stops for pictures. We rather reluctantly stopped at a country shopping “mall” in an old mill – only to discover it was filled with souvenirs rather than antiques. Feeling entirely frustrated, I said, “Fine. Let’s go to the arcade and play skeeball – at least we can laugh!” You guessed it, the arcade was closed.
Nothing – and I mean nothing – was working out. We threw up our hands and headed south toward the airport. And landed in the worst traffic jam I have ever experienced in New Hampshire. Initially, this felt like just one more frustration in what had been a day full of frustrations. I’m usually a fairly patient gal, but I felt like screaming out of the car window as we jerked along in stop-and-go traffic.
Just so you know, we never, ever check GPS when going down to the airport because it always (ALWAYS) takes between 60-75 minutes. As we crawled toward the airport, and the clock ticked on, I realized that it was going to take more than double the time it typically does to get to the airport. Were it not for all of the things that went “wrong” that morning, our friends would have missed their flight.
What if the “mess” of Monday was actually a gift?
That’s when a wave of gratitude hit me. What would have wrecked the day were all the things I was seeking to save it from being wrecked! If we’d been able to dawdle taking pictures on our drive, if we’d spent an hour or two goofing off in an arcade, if we’d stumbled across a cute place for lunch – all of these “good” things would have led to disaster.
The freedom of allowing life to do what life will do is not only a mindset for vacations
As I pondered this, the wave of gratitude was followed closely by some questions. The first was, why hadn’t I trusted that what had been a pretty magical weekend would continue to unfold rather magically?
The answer is simple – I had attributed the glorious freedom of letting a day happen exactly as it will happen as a vacation state of mind. The fact that we had to be in Manchester by 2:00 and that we “had to” have fun until then, created both a sense of pressure and a scheduled mindset that popped me out of “vacation mode” and back into the proverbial drivers’ seat of life. As I always (ALWAYS) do, I leapt eagerly at the illusion of control. And, as it always does, that illusion proved as fragile as a soap bubble.
Realizing that we’re part of the problem takes some guts
My second question was less simple. Why didn’t I sense that it was not the weekend but me who had changed – that I was suddenly trying to make things happen rather than allowing them to happen? After all, aren’t my mindfulness practices designed to help me recognize when I slip into old patterns and habitual ways of being?
This answer is two-fold. The first part is humbling. I am still evolving, and – given the depths of my frustration that Monday morning – I clearly have a long way to go to enlightenment.
Realizing that we’re part of the problem is a reason to keep trying
The second part is inspiring. Every time I notice that I’ve messed up is an invitation to keep practicing. Every time I grab the steering wheel of life, I have the opportunity to recognize that – yet again – I am unable to direct the flow of events. I am invited to make the terrifying choice to let go of that steering wheel and experience the relief that always (ALWAYS) comes when I let life do what life is doing.
So, perhaps, maybe, hopefully, the next time I notice myself basking in the flow of life like I was for three whole days last weekend, I’ll be able to hang out there a little longer. Perhaps, maybe, hopefully, I’ll be able to maintain that mindset even if I wake up on a cold and rainy day to find all of my plans crumbling.
Having felt that glow, I’m game to try!
Here are two verses from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali that inform the growth that came from this real-life experience:
When we practice steadily while also letting go, the mind remains poised in a state of balance between doing and allowing, and our consciousness can act in the world without getting entangled in its interactions. This state of mind allows us to transcend the pull of opposites (“this is the way things are supposed to be!” vs. “this is the way things are”) that are the nature of this world of change. This is supreme freedom. – Yoga Sutras of Patanjali 1.16
To maintain equanimity of mind, you can reflect back on an experience in which you felt complete confluence and synergy, such as a perfect sunset, a moment of creativity, or a perfect unplanned three-day weekend. – Yoga Sutras of Patanjali 1.35