Dodging mud puddles

As I write this, we are enjoying a very rare “Kona storm” a phrase coined by the old-timers to describe a heavy, consistent rain that approaches from the south (towards Kona) only occasionally and brings with it heavy rain that dances on the tin roof. It’s a delicious sound, this rare rain on the tin roof, and it is a sound that those of us who are lucky enough to have grown up in Hawaii have a true appreciation for.

My furry companion however has NO appreciation for this wonderful rain, in fact, we spent the better part of our walk this afternoon dodging mud puddles. 

She would do everything she could to avoid the mud puddles, at one point paying no heed to the ambulance blaring its siren as it drove by, or the out-of-town driver who was lost. Nope, she just wanted to avoid that mud puddle at all costs. 

Life has been that way lately. I have been focusing on the obstacles, the worst-case scenarios that “might” happen, the bad outcome that “could” happen, so much so, that my attention, (like my sweet puppy) zeroes in on the one thing I want to avoid most instead of the beauty of the rain, the smiles from strangers on the street and the warm bath in the kitchen sink (for one of us), that awaits.

Maybe you too have been doing your best to avoid a mud puddle. My advice? Look up, look around. take in a smile from a stranger, and if you end up a little muddy because you stepped in the mud puddle anyway? Well, that’s nothing a  warm bath in the kitchen sink can’t cure 😉

Happy trails…

When my sisters and I were younger, we would trek around town in our rubber boots purchased from Sure Save. We would play hard, climbing the old pepper tree in my parents’ backyard and race our bikes along country roads like this one. We would go and go and go until we heard the dreaded “time for naps!” coming from the house as my mom called us in. “But we’re not tired!” we would exclaim as we elbowed and kicked each other on our way through the front door.

Shouts of “stop touching me! “and “she started it!” and “quit looking at me that way!” would accompany us as we flopped onto our bunk beds. Our eyes heavy and yet fully open, we would exclaim that we weren’t tired and that we would NEVER fall asleep. 

Inevitably, we would, one by one, close our eyes “just for a second” as we listened to the cooing doves and drink in the smell of freshly cut grass drifting through the windows.

What is it about being tired that we fight so much? Like little kids, when someone says to us, “you look tired, you should rest, “we immediately say, “no, I’m not!” and take offense. 

So why do we fight fatigue?

There’s nothing wrong with closing our eyes; there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that we are tired.  Even though, as adults, we may not be going through growth spurts like we did as little kids, we are still growing intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally.

We still need time to sleep, to rest our eyes. We are all exhausted. Who isn’t completely exhausted?! 

Fighting the fatigue won’t make it better; instead, maybe we should fall into the fatigue, acknowledge the exhaustion, tame the tiredness, smooth the frayed edges. 

How do we do that? 

Well, when someone says “you look tired” or “this must be so exhausting, “you can say, “yes, I am tired, yes it is exhausting” and give yourself some grace.

After all, who doesn’t feel better after a nap?

When I was a little girl, my sisters and I would spend almost every Sunday at the beach either body surfing or boogie boarding.

Inevitably, we would get caught in what we would affectionately call the “washing machine,” in which we would be turned upside down on our heads, buckets of sand going up our noses and into our ears, accompanied by the inhalation of gallons of water.

The first time it happened to me, I was completely disoriented, scared, fighting against the disruption of the waves and not knowing which way was up. I struggled against the tide, struggled against gravity, and in my disorientation, finally found my way up to the surface, gasping for breath and crying in between gulps of air.

My mom saw all of this happen, and holding her trademark orange boogie board, paddled over to me.

“Mom!” I cried out, “did you see what happened? I’m never boogie boarding again!”

My mom gently re-fastened the leash to my wrist and gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever received. “You need to move with the ocean; instead of fighting it, let yourself relax and ease into the disruption. The wave will pass over you, and if you relax, you’ll be able to find your way to the surface. But if you fight it, you’re going to use up all your energy trying to figure out which way is up, and you won’t be able to have enough energy to catch the next wave.”

Lately, there have been many disruptions in my life, a few of them have been scary, but most of them have just been uncomfortable. And in speaking with friends and family over the last couple of weeks, I know I am not alone.

Disruptions are uncomfortable, and they are painful; we don’t know where our footing is, we’ve lost our “routines.” We have had to adjust to new work schedules, new living situations, new relationships, career changes, the list goes on and on.

So what are we to do about these disruptions? Well, for me, as hard as it is, I have been trying to relax into the disturbances, to ease into them, to move with them, and to know that these waves too shall wash over me. I can certainly fight the disruptions, but I know that I need to save enough energy to get ready for the next wave 🌊