The other week I was cleaning a closet. (Insert buzzer sound here.) Fact check: I was not really cleaning, I was searching for items to wear to an 80’s party. Anyway. I found a box of old college stuff that quickly became a giant time suck. Who can resist reflecting on memories? The box included a large number of “blue books” filled with essays from my numerous Art History classes. Just thinking about this makes my hand cramp in memory of death-gripping a pen and writing furiously. One blue book I got sucked into reading was my college self’s observations of a famous Seurat painting, Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. Man, I love that painting. And I am so fortunate to visit it now and then at the Art Institute of Chicago. I remember my first viewing of this work and my amazement of its true grand scale compared to that of a tiny square in my Art History book. Seurat used a painting technique called pointillism, which uses tiny dots of color in a way that when seen at appropriate distances achieve the maximum view of the big picture. How cool is that? I’ve even tried my hand at pointillism. I can tell you that it takes a lot of patience, but with equal reward. My Mom is the proud owner of one of my early works that hangs in her entryway.  It’s my amateur version of a different Seurat painting and signed by “Jill” with a big bubble J.  Pointillism is really amazing. You can spend your time alternating between staring so closely at the dots that it makes you dizzy to stepping back in amazement at the full magnificent view. In full view, you’re able to see patterns and shadows appear that you would have never imagined while focused on the detail. I love the way the sum is greater than the parts. So I’ve been thinking. Sometimes it’s so easy to get bogged down in looking at the tiny colored dots of the day-to-day that it takes effort – or sometimes an event – to step back and achieve maximum view.

This has been a tough week. Weeks like this take all of my effort and all of my best balancing skills to give everything – individually – my full attention; detail by detail, dot to dot. Most of you know of my affinity for yoga. Weeks like this cause me to crave yoga.  Seriously, crave. While I love the movements of yoga, the real power of yoga for me is mental. I love the brilliant wisdom of my yoga instructors. I love the words they effortlessly string together. They inspire me; they make me push myself physically and mentally. Yoga helps me stay present and connected to the here and now. It keeps me grounded. One of my favorite moments early in each class is a pose called sun salutation. We stand with both feet touching, bringing hands together palm to palm, at the heart. We pause here and our instructor asks us to “set an intention” for class. Although we are minutes into breathing warm-ups, this is the moment that class really begins for me. It’s the moment that I allow my mind to be still for the remainder of class. I hold my palms together, gently close my eyes, quiet my mind and I choose one word – chosen exactly at that moment – that I dedicate as my intention. I don’t choose my word before that moment, but truth be told it’s not exactly spontaneous either. I have a virtual bucket of words that I have gathered over my yoga years and I probably rotate through them week to week. Periodically, one word may get forgotten or another gets added. While this is meant as an intention for the class, I set my intention for the day and sometimes even for the week. When I lose sight of my word, I know it’s time to get my butt back to class. I know; a word for the day is a very “Ally McBeal” sort of thing to do.  Does anyone remember that TV show? That show was a live blog before blogs. But I digress. Here’s a sampling of my most well-worn “go to” words. Balance. Gratitude. Love. Presence. Mindfulness. Balls. Go ahead and laugh. I guess another word choice could have been Strength, but one day I pulled out the word Balls from my virtual bucket so now I stick with it. Yoga is an effort I make that allows me to step back and see the big picture.

This week, an event occurred that gave me this opportunity to step back. It’s not my tale to tell so I’ll leave the event silent. But the learnings from this event have resulted in this post and I will happily share those. While in the midst of a work day captive to tiny dots of color, I had the opportunity to consider how hard it is sometimes to see the patterns in our own lives simply because we are too close to the canvas. I had the opportunity to witness actions so selfless that it brought me to a standstill. It was a reminder that when we step back far enough, we can see every hue and shadow clearly and with a fresh perspective. And while I set an intention for a day, this tale combines them all and more. Balance. Gratitude. Love. Mindfulness. Presence. Balls.

When we stand too close to the canvas the tiny dots make no sense and there is no order.  The dots are seemingly misplaced bits of randomness. Bits of anger, dismay, exhaustion, love, patience, fill in the blank. Yet every single dot has a purpose in the overall design. So, take inventory of your individual dots. And then, be enlightened enough to step back, achieve maximum view and be rewarded by the sight of the big picture.

Namaste.

Like many of you, I began this Fall with the mixed emotions of having my children move up yet another grade in school.  This Fall I have a 5th grader and an 8th grader…and let’s not forget the feisty 2½ year old.  This Fall marked some milestones in our home.  We have a teenager in the house.  Yep, my son turned thirteen.  One. Three.  (Gasp.)  And my oldest daughter is into her next decade at age 11.  At 5th and 8th grade, I am realizing how few years I have left with them at home.  To use a golfing phrase, I’m playing the back nine.

Think about it.  As parents we have 18 years of control (real or perceived) to shape our children into adults.  I am coming to the realization that the older my children get, the more they need me.  How did that happen?  Isn’t it the reverse?  I mean, many women rejoin the workforce after the front nine, right?  Older kids need you in a different way from their younger selves, but they need you nonetheless.  It’s not just the hours per night helping with Algebra.  But there are also the unspoken needs based on this newfound independence called growing up.  It’s the push and pull dynamic.  At the back nine, kids push you away and you (attempt to) pull them closer; eager to keep the threads of the relationship present and strong.  You hang onto their every word because they come so much more infrequently now.  The front nine was different.  Kids express their needs in a variety of manners and it’s fairly easy to figure it all out.  But this back nine…it’s a whole different story.

Anyone who has ever swung a golf club knows that golf is anything but an easy game.  So goes parenthood.  Successful golfers take an extremely detailed approach to the game. They walk the greens and roll multiple golf balls from different positions to see precisely how putts might break.  Successful golfers make every attempt to prepare for their game.  And as with any skill, practice is the best of all instructors.  Now let’s talk about my game.  I enjoy golf, but I am far from what anyone would label a successful golfer. Oftentimes, the back nine seems much more challenging for me.  I always warn my cart mate of this fact and lament over the problematic back nine.  Is it an endurance thing? You can certainly get fatigued by the back nine and fade down the stretch.  One of my favorite words of wisdom was the guy who told me that a drink or two on the back nine would help my game.  Other cart mates have told me that I need to pay close attention to my pace and rhythm throughout all 18 holes.  I guess it’s possible I lose focus knowing that I am past the midpoint of my round.

Another consideration, however, is merely the difficulty of the course at play.  Perhaps, the back nine really IS the more difficult half of the course.  Perhaps, the back nine really ARE the more challenging years on the parenting course.

Musings from the course:

• The back nine requires more focus and a steady pace.
• Be present.  Don’t get ahead of yourself.
• Passing the midpoint shouldn’t have you thinking about the end of the round, rather than focusing on each hole (year/day/moment) individually.
• Prevent fatigue.  Find tools and tactics that can help you recharge.  For me, that’s yoga.  (A drink now and then doesn’t hurt either.)
• Engage and practice.  If practice is the best of all instructors, parents are lucky to get plenty of it on a daily basis.
• Be forgiving and patient.  It’s my belief that parents deserve and receive an endless supply of mulligans.
• Parenting on the back nine requires the same tenderness, constancy, reverence and hope of the first nine.  It just may be the more challenging half of the course.