The Picture Window of Your Life

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I grimaced at the throbbing in my right knee. It had been just two days since I had arthroscopic knee surgery to repair a torn cartilage and things were still swollen, sore and I was dopy from the pain medication. Yet I was determined to make my way to the kitchen where I heard Ariel preparing food.

I slowly hobbled down the hall and into the kitchen and there she was, chopping carrots to put into homemade chicken soup. As I rounded the corner, I saw orange carrots, the flash of the knife and Ariel’s face lifting and brightening when she saw me. Hands on both sides of my face, a quick and lovely kiss and she disappeared only to return moments later with a chair for me to settle into while she worked.

Normally so active, my leg had laid me low and I was thrust by circumstance into a restful posture. Slightly detached yet itching to do more I said, “You don’t mind if I just sit here do you?” I knew the answer but I had to ask. “Don’t be silly!” she replied. “I love your company.”

And so I sat. I admired the multitude of faint coloration on our slate floor, the richness of the cherry and the walnut cabinets and my wife, who was happily, without complaint making us a meal, content with my quiet presence. Then my attention shifted to the big picture window over the sink. The view from this window is our backyard. From there you can see the two hydrangea trees on either side of our lawn, weighted down with large blooms that go papery dry in the fall and become snow laden in winter. We have a picture that Ariel captured of a bright crimson cardinal as it perched amidst the white snow crested blossoms. It is so stunning in contrast that we made holiday cards with the image. Behind the lawn are woods – oak, maple and ash. The leaves were beginning to turn. Mostly yellow and brown so far. Not much red yet. The ferns on the edge of the forest were yellowing also but still mainly green. And just beyond our deck is a very large freestanding bird feeder. When Ariel and I first purchased it, we still lived in Woodstock, NY and when we brought it home, the birds were all afraid of it. We used to laugh because it was such an investment and we rarely attracted any takers for the feed. At that time it was our “lawn ornament”. However, now that we live in New Jersey, for whatever reason, the birds love this feeder. But then again, so do bears. I have reconstructed it on three separate occasions after it has been ripped apart by local black bears and I don’t think it could survive a fourth attack. Now we have a little electric fence running around it, just enough to act as a deterrent, we hope. No new feeder raids since I installed it.

But as I sat in my chair, most of this view was from memory. Sitting as I was, a distance from the window itself, I only got an abbreviated view. From there, I could not see the lawn. Nor could I catch a glimpse of the Hydrangea trees, the porch railing or even the bird feeder stand and surrounding electric fence. The tops of the trees were nipped off and so were the base of the trunks and the ferns that surrounded them.

Such is the way when one sits back, disengaged from one’s life. Of course, in my circumstantially enforced meditative pose, it was entirely appropriate for me to be at a distance, but it triggered a thought about the folks we coach. There are many things that can rock people back on their heels so that they are no longer up against the picture window of life – disappointment, loss, indecision. In fact, when making a life decision, often people step back, disengage and think about what to do. But from this posture, there are no treetops, no ground cover and the edges of what is available is obscured from view.

As I sat there, I remembered a young man, Steven, who came to our seminars. He seemed very bright but lacked direction, focus or motivation. Unemployed for some time, his wife supported them both. He sat back and pondered what to do with his life. But no matter where he looked, everything, all manner of work seemed beneath him. So, I suggested that he get a job, any job. And since Steven was originally from France, I suggested that he stop worrying about the “right” job, the “prestigious” job, but that he go to McDonald’s and get a job frying French Fries. Further, I suggested, that he go about his work as if it mattered. Do everything with excellence.

The next week, Steven got a job at the local McDonalds. He soon became the fastest, best person they had ever had making French Fries for the lunch rush and they offered to make him a manager. By this time, Steven had also taken a second job at Barnes & Noble. He went about this job with excellence, too, and he quickly was offered a department to manage there, as well. Now Steven was coming up to speed. He moved closer to the picture window of his life.

Steven accepted the full time position at the bookstore. Before he knew it, life was no longer a lethargic mental exercise of “What do I want to do with my life?” It became a game of looking and seeing what else was possible. With his wife’s support, Steven decided to go back to school. He enrolled in a local college and the folks at the bookstore valued him as a person and as an employee so they worked his schedule around his classes. Semester after semester, Steven got straight “A”s as he took classes in advanced math and molecular biology and the like. He would come to our evenings excitedly talking about the day’s lab experiments.

We haven’t seen Steven in some years, but I hear he got his PhD and has become the head of a research lab at a prestigious university. Here is a man who took control of his life by engaging in it, with totality. He pressed his nose up against the picture window and went with what he saw without worrying about doing the “right” thing, or the “better” thing.

I had sat long enough. It was time to nap again. I hoisted myself from my chair, kissed my wife, munched a piece of carrot and returned to my bed. But not before I leaned close to the window, looking far and wide.