One Sea Star at a Time

“A hug is like a boomerang - you get it back right away.”  —Bil Keane (Family Circus)

This morning on my way out for my once a week coffee that’s slipping into twice a week, I thought about how much harder it is to be my own best friend than a friend to others.  Easier when the chips are up.  I enjoy my company when I’m looking good, behaving marvelously and my decisions are rewarded with progress toward intended goals.  The art of life is like the art of cooking, or just art for that matter. Yesterday I made up a new emergency dish that was snappy and healthy.  I praised myself out loud for being such a good cook.  Likewise, when I slide my arthritic fingers nimbly up the keys of my saxophone, I smile and congratulate myself.  And when I create the exact colors I want on my watercolor pallet and find the intensity and stroke I want, I feel masterful.

But when the chips are down, that chummy feeling doesn’t come so easily. I throw out the worst insults at myself:

Sax—“You suck.”

Bland meal—“Lost cause.”

Poor decision in which I didn’t listen to my inner voice—“I thought you knew better.”

Letting anger and ego rule in the classroom—“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Writing a piece that’s going nowhere—“Quit.  You’re not a writer.”

Muddy mess of a painting—“Quit.  You’re not an artist, and you never will be.”

This week I experienced some failures and was quick to extend that title to my persona.  “I am a Failure.”  My list of credentials is short but certainly qualifies me for the position.  First, I hurt a friend.  So watch this: I feel bad for my friend, but even worse, I am mostly thinking about me and what this says about me?  I’ve told myself I’m thoughtless and careless.  Now I can add self-centered to my list.  See how that works?

Next on my resume is Poor Planner.  Funny how this has been true most of my life.  Last Minute Lindsay, I’ve often called myself.  I do fly by the seat of my pants at work.  Mostly I can get away with it.  But this week I got busted.  A co-worker, who scolded me for poor planning in the past, this time only whistled at me when I requested his help.  I spent the day alternating between defensiveness—I don’t have time to plan—and more self-bashing. 

Now, you see, I have my credentials in order and a couple of strong references.  So everything I did, every interaction I had was flavored by failure.

Maybe it’s no coincidence then that my daughter came home yesterday, crying, feeling like a failure.  The tree sat next to the nut and tried to comfort her and give some advice.  I told her that extending one moment into a day does no good.  I suggested she just focus on the moments, and not overlook the good ones.  My advice, like a hug, came right back to me.  My other nut, who somehow managed to bounce farther away from all this, joined us and added to our little shift.  He told one of his favorite stories about a daughter and father walking along a beach covered with washed up sea stars.  As the daughter walked along, she threw sea stars back into the ocean.  The father said, “There are too many.  It won’t make a difference for all these on the beach.”  The girl answered, “It will make a difference for that sea star.”  Riley, my favorite son, related the story to Casey, my favorite daughter.  He said taking on the entire beach, all of her problems, can be overwhelming.  “You don’t have to change everything at once,” he said.  “Baby steps,” I added, and made a note in my head.

Today, Sunday, rather than whining about being a poor planner, I’m going to grade papers and plan my class activities for the week.  Then I can move on to whining about losing part of my precious Sunday, like most of the other teachers I know.  Wait!  I don’t mean they whine on Sundays; I mean they work on Sundays.  I didn’t write that clearly but I’m not going to bash myself for that.

 

Instead I’m going to save a sea star.  I would never berate my friends like I do myself.  And my friends would never tell me I’m a lost cause.  Neither would they let me give up in self-pity.  And neither would I let them.  Guess I’ll practice the kindness, forgiveness and patience toward myself and take my own advice.  I’m deleting my Failure resume and starting a new one today.

Here’s that snappy little emergency dish complete with protein, veggie power, probiotics and flavor for great self-care.

Potatoes and Veggies with Pesto Yogurt

2 medium red or small baking potatoes (organic please) cut into bite sized pieces

½ medium sweet potato (organic) cut into smaller chunks

2 large carrots (organic) sliced about 1/3 of an inch thick

½ medium green pepper (organic) cut into bite sized pieces

3 or so stalks of broccoli cut into bite sized pieces

1 small zucchini halved lengthwise then cut in about ½ inch slices

1 pint of mushrooms (white button, crimini or shiitake) sliced

¼ c. plain, low fat organic yogurt

½ to 1 t. pesto

In a medium sized saucepan and a steamer if you have it, (if you don’t, you can use the pan and about a third c. of water) poor in water and add the first three ingredients and cover pot.  Steam for about 8 minutes.  While your veggies are steaming, mix yogurt and pesto together.  Add green peppers and check your water level, making sure you have about a third of an inch of water.  Cover for a few more minutes.  Add broccoli, zucchini and mushrooms.  Stir and check your water level.  Cover and steam until tender.

Spoon desired amount and top with yogurt and pesto mixture.  Before you take your first bite, give yourself a little hug to show appreciation for your self-care efforts.  With each bite, you can picture another sea star swimming in the ocean.