Saturday, April 9, 2011

Checkmate

Sometime in the last few months, I sent a letter to a close friend and confidant that confided my overwhelming desire to seize another big "checkmate" moment. I have been thinking about this for years, since I finished school. As I make the quick and steady approach to my 30th birthday, I force myself to reflect on my 20s. What did I accomplish, how, why, and how can I improve?

The fact is that I, regretfully, lost sight of the successes and treasured moments I enjoyed during my twenties. My focus is always on the next big thing. Every triumph leads to a new plan; every new plan to a new execution; every completed execution to a new stride; and then the cycle repeats.


Is this a function of the society in which we live? How often do people really sit back, drop anchor, and allow the moment to envelop them? I have started to believe that the effects of this constant forward-movement are more detrimental to our long term happiness than we are willing to acknowledge. The sweet taste of success should not be fleeting at all. It should be savored time and time again. I'm all about living in the moment, and moving forward with the next big dream; but without the critical reflection on those days when we awoke with the unmistakable "Checkmate!" feeling, I don't think we really position ourselves to derive our most potent energy for the purest source: our own souls. Instead, we are constantly shifting in our spiritual chairs, watching and waiting, wondering and planning, ready to pounce.


How long can we run straight into the flames at a million miles an hour before we experience the defeat of exhaustion? The paramount reflection here is that there truly is a time for everything, and a balance to every success. The planning and watching are constant, but these are also moments where resting and rejuvenating really matter. Why not truly allow yourself to clasp your hands behind your head,put your feet up on the table, and say to yourself, "I won"? We force ourselves to physically do this all the time. Why is it so easy to cast our spiritual well-being aside, under the guise of always being ready for the next big thing? You can't be ready for the next big gig if you have exhausted your ability to discern it. And certainly, if you are lucky enough to seize it, you are setting yourself up to be robbed of its beauty.


Our efforts were rewarded and we have positioned ourselves to seize countless "checkmate" moments, if we are wise enough to see the opportunities as they present themselves. For me, my goals are set for the next decade and my energy is replenished. I'm watching, waiting, and listening for my cue. Now, I think the most advantageous thing to do is to lay out in the sun, drink a beer, and take a deep breath. "Go time" could be any minute.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Little Ava

Ever since I played my guitar and sang for the kids at Naomi’s school, I’ve been treated like some sort of celebrity. They always say “Hello!” to me when I pick her up, and typically I am wowed with story after story of whatever happens to occupy their minds at the moment I arrive.

Yesterday, I was early and decided to enjoy the sunshine with all 40+ children as they played on the playground. I did my normal chitchat with the teachers and got up to speed on Naomi’s goings on (FYI: everyone loves her and she is never picked on).

Little Ava is a kindergartner with HUGE glasses. She adores Naomi and is always following her around. After the girls spent a good while showing me all the cool stuff they could do on the slide, Ava came over and said, “Naomi’s Mommy, you’re beautiful.” I responded, “You’re beautiful, too.” She launched right in to a story about her glasses and how she needs them because her eyes cross sometimes. Naomi interrupted the story and told me, in front of Ava, that the kids make fun of Ava’s glasses.

Dagger…straight through my heart.

I suddenly remembered every single time I ate lunch alone, played outside alone, and had kids laugh at me and ridicule me.

“I had glasses, too. I got them when I was eight and wore them until I was 26.”
Ava’s eyes got wide. “You did?”
“Yep. And mean kids didn’t like my glasses either.”
“They didn’t?”
“Nope. And trust me, sweetheart, your glasses show off your pretty eyes.”

She gave me a big smile and took off.

I should have become a school teacher.