I seek rhythm in my day. Whether it be exercise or just my day around the house with the kids. I remember being this way as a kid and I still feel it now as an adult.
It seems almost incongruent to my way of being because although I am not musical or really even coordinated for that matter, I really do feel like there is always a rhythm to what I do. Today, when I was watching my son at CrossFit (they have a kids class that is amazeballs) I could see that he has the same need for rhythm in his life too. I saw him trying to get his feet right when he was trying to jump rope and I could tell he was so frustrated! He likes cadence, rhythm. He likes consistency. He is such an athletic kid, but it is totally in his mind. If he can wrap his mind around a concept or a skill he is golden but until he does he will flail around like Gumby – just like his Mama. But when he hits that rhythm, wow look out. I once watched him pitch a whiffe ball up onto the roof to himself and then wait for it to bounce back down. When it came bounce, bounce, bouncing back down he would swing the bat at just the right time and whack that holey white ball right over the fence. Every time. It was nuts.
I remember doing the exact same thing as a kid. When I was younger and just starting out in volleyball, I was small and not very good. In fact, I was not very good at all for a very long time. I started playing when I was nine and I was probably five foot two and about three pounds on a good day. My diet consisted of grilled cheese sandwiches and toast and I was just small. I just loved that sport though. I don’t know why it was that sport that clicked, but it did and I remember wanting to be good. I wanted to be good so badly! But when you are starting out and you are small and not naturally athletic, you have no rhythm. You have no frame of reference of what to do to get better or even how to begin to use your body to accomplish the big ideas and big things that you feel in your heart and know in your mind. It is all so attainable in concept and then skinny limbs fail you and big giant feet trip you up. If I could only get my rhythm.
Even though I was smaller than everyone else, you just couldn’t keep the ball out of my hands. Even when there was no gym to practice in, I would just hit the ball up onto the roof and wait for it to come back down so I could pass it back up there again and then again and again. The best ones were when I could catch a good rhythm. The ones where I would pass it up there and it would bounce, bounce, bounce back down and then I would pass it back up and it would bounce, bounce, bounce back down. Every now and again it would hit a shingle the wrong way or it would come off my arm funky and hit the lip of the roof all wrong and I would have to start my rhythm again. But I loved when I got in a groove and I could just hit it up onto the roof all afternoon. When I got better I would pass it onto the roof and then set it onto the roof and then eventually pass, set and hit it onto the roof. I could get a good rhythm going on these too, but it was more difficult and I loved the challenge of trying to get three or four rally’s in a row. I just kept seeking that rhythm. Most days, I could find it and it was fantastic.
I am still the same way. I love when something clicks and things just start getting into a rhythm and not just with sports. My days with my family are so much better when I am in a groove or rhythm. When Mama is off, everybody is off. I so wish that wasn’t the case. There are days when I wish I was just chill or mellow or whatevs. But that’s just not me. I am not that feather from the opening sequence of “Forrest Gump” just floating here and there going wherever the wind seeks to take me. I am linear, methodical and one who seeks rhythm. And thank goodness I am. It is what keeps me from giving up. It is what keeps me moving most days and makes me want to try new things (ahhh, to master a new rhythm is the best!). I may have two left feet in the physical sense, but my internal rhythm (when it clicks) is legit.
Categories: All The Rest