Seeking Simplicity

"When hungry, eat; when thirsty, take a drink; when sleepy, go to sleep" — Zen saying

It's the simple things with which I struggle. This is why I'm fat. It's why our house is a mess.

Bigger things often feel easier. Over eight years, I saved for and then bought a Tesla. I manage an organization approaching $2M in value and a staff of a dozen. At home, I pay bills, keep us out of credit card and student loan debt. Big stuff.

But I eat when not hungry, drink with no connection to thirst, and stay awake long past feeling sleepy. I've put laundry in the machine but the den is covered in pet hair and there are cobwebs in the kitchen. I have four letters from a friend I haven't answered. Yet still I find time for Twitter.

All of this is difficult to accept though I bet acceptance is the first step. It's difficult accepting I haven't run in weeks, still haven't hung the paintings at my office. I make coffee each morning, write three pages by hand, but won't pull on running shorts or hammer a couple nails.

Am I whining? I hope not. Mostly I'm trying to understand.

I've written blog posts this week, one each morning without worrying if I'll do it again the next day, just enjoying. A Zen master might say, when the thought begins, write.

Perhaps that's a start. I'll think it over while moving laundry from washer to dryer. Maybe I'll consider it while vacuuming to the den. Maybe today I'll ask, am I hungry, do I thirst, or am I ready to sleep? Which is to say, maybe I'll consider the things which are and aren't simple and that have simple answers in this complex life.

Oops

Last night, I learned I've been doing something wrong that affects our organization. I learned this in a workshop with two board members. At the next break, I said, oops, shook my head in disbelief, and owned it.

They were understanding and we agreed immediately on the fix that improves the whole organization.

Last week, a staff member made a mistake and, rather than come to me, tried to hid it. They are new to the organization and timid. I told them, I have no problem with mistakes and don't have use for blame so long as we're open and apply fixes. I worked with them to fix things, it was no big deal, and we're better for it.

I told them how, as a kid, I broke a window with a ball and panicked, feeling I'd be in big trouble. But I told Dad and he helped me fix it without recrimination. His message: when things happen, we fix them.

Decades later, my daughters broke a garage windows with a ball, came to me, and we had fun fixing it together. That new window was better than the one we'd replaced.

Last night's oops pointed out a broken thing. Fixing it makes for a better organization. Fixing it together made us stronger.

Oops is accepting that things happen. It facilitates a fix and brings in help. Oops, more often than not, makes things better than they were before.

Heroes

Came home late from work yesterday. The cats and dog greeted me, hungry for attention and kibble. My wife was out. I put baked a frozen pizza, changed into pajamas, sat on the couch to watch something easy, light, fun, and good.

I settled on the first Captain America movie, one I've seen a dozen times. The pizza was good. The pajamas, couch, and blanket were comforting. The movie felt just right.

When my wife came home, she asked what I was watching and laughed a little when I told her. She laughed a little at how many times I've watched it and because she understands that sometimes I just need a hero or two.

She said, at the end, the heroes win.

I said, and everyone knows the villains are bad.

Yesterday's news was of the Florida hurricane, their terrible governor, the orange maggot who attempted a coup. A disaster and two villains who might as well be whispering, hail Hydra. No hero with an indestructible shield, super strength, and the purest of hearts is on his way. Am I supposed to pull on tights and go into battle? Honestly, I couldn't pull them over my fat belly.

We watched that rest of that movie and, when it was over, put on the first Avengers movie. No surprise, the heroes won again.

And then, after a hard day filled with hard news, I slept like a child.

Making Do

I'm typing this on an old Chromebook my wife gave me in 2013. Then it was the finest of things. Many new, shinier things have come along in nine years.

Still, this is a delightful tool. I'm impressed it still works well enough. Google put out a Chrome OS for old machines. Previously, they killed things off after three years. Now, so far as I can tell, this can go on and on. I hope so anyway.

Of course, there are issues with such an old machine. The battery is terrible. The fan runs constantly and sounds like I'm on an airplane. But beyond that, there's not much difference from the first time I opened it.

There's also joy in using something old and in not buying new. Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. Rhyming words to live by.

Has me thinking about the fountain pen, cast-iron pans, my father's old cars and my brother driving them all around town. Has me thinking of living in this house for two decades, married for twenty-seven yearsand being in love for thirty-one.

It's easy to want shiny new things, to be sold on upgrades, but going back to what I already have, what works, and what has lasted turns out to feel pretty good. Certainly good enough to make do and more than enough to bring joy. Something money just can't buy.