I almost maybe sort of broke my foot in December. Though I was never formally diagnosed, I’m pretty sure I had a stress fracture. Cue lots of thinking about not stressing. And not breaking.
So when Manchild was struggling with his piano piece, dragging his feet about practicing, threatening to quit . . . we said: Better to quit the piece than quit piano.
(And for the past few weeks, the new piece has been music to all of our ears.)
When it takes me 3 months to put together a podcast episode that I’m sure I could do in a month if, you know, all went well . . . well, it takes the time it takes.
Bend, don’t break.
And when I get halfway through a recipe and realize a key ingredient is past its prime. Pivot. Don’t even blink. Just turn. Dinner surprise!
Hopefully a good surprise.
There’s always a crack. Always an imperfection. Always something not quite right. Stressing seems like a good way to break it in pieces. Keeping it together . . . that’s where the challenge is. That’s where the adventure is. That’s where the fun is.
That’s where I want to be.