When I was 7 years old my parents decided it was time for me to take piano lessons. At the beginning I was excited to follow my big sister’s steps - the lessons were easy and I felt like I could jump ahead to the next section without spending much time at all on the lesson I had been assigned. In music, two bold lines signify the end of the song - the place to stop. After a few weeks of starting the next lesson to find that I had jumped ahead, my teacher began to draw two bold lines at the end of the page. This irked me slightly because I had a tendency to get bored/annoyed in the current lesson and look to the next for some relief.
Sometimes in life you need to push through the barriers to achieve what you want - in a marathon you need to take the next step despite what the pain in your legs tells you, and when studying for a big test you need to learn the material well and keep coming back to it even though the monotony of it has made house cleaning feel like an appealing pastime. Matthew McConaughey calls these “red lights” or “yellow lights” and encourages us to look for the “green lights.” I really do love that book.
But those aren’t the kinds of barriers - the two bold lines I’m talking about. These bold lines tell us when not to push past - when to be satisfied with the road we’re walking instead of fantasizing about a way to hop the fence. I think if we listen to them correctly they also tell us about “enough” and keep us from pouring time/energy/resources into pits that don’t need them. They can also teach us about rest, and help us focus on what we’ve already been given instead of constantly striving.
So “if I’m getting everything I want, why am I still unsatisfied?” (my beautiful pregnant wife asked me).
I don’t know babe.
Is it because I’m impatient?
Because of the anxiety when the uncertainties of life overwhelm?
I feel again like the 7 year old student, stumped and frustrated, spending time in the current lesson, and thinking maybe the next one will make me feel better. I want all of this to be resolved and to be able to take in each day, person, meal, experience with a calmness (babe I see you wrinkling your nose in disgust)!
Because you know better than I do that peace is more than just a good feeling, and that there’s also a fight and a trust and a perseverance and a release to it. Oh but right now I’m in the middle of the learned lesson and I often feel I’d like to have this in the rear view mirror, but since it isn’t, I’ll go through it, and I am grateful to not be alone.
