Big - from Wade

Big. What’s big in this life? Why do we stop sometimes and think “Whoa. That’s big”? What makes us do that? I’m not so much thinking about why we say ‘whoa’ instead of ‘ah’ or something else. But more about what are the things, events, places, experiences, emotions, people that make us say ‘whoa’?

The 2-dimensional cube of mind-blow.

My daughter made me say whoa tonight. We were driving down 360 highway going south from Spicewood Springs and Great Hills. She was telling me about things that, in fact, had recently made her say whoa. The first was that if you have a certain kind of mind, you can look at a two-dimensional cube like the one here for the first time and see that it is two cubes at once: one with the higher square in front, and one with the lower square taking the foreground. 

Then, once your mind can wrap its arms around that concept, the cube can be static and dynamic at the same time. While I have known this for as long as I can remember, I have just seen my daughter internalize it. There are two things here that are big to me. One, that I am here to be with her. And two, she’s pondering school insights even when her class is long dismissed and her homework vanquished. God I love this girl.

Well then, she tells me about why she loves symmetry. (BTW, I love that word with its double m’s. How apropos.) We had just come down the long hill to the north end of the 360 bridge. “What a t’ing a beauty she is!” forming two opposing black bars with dividers and supports, silhouetted against the sun-drenched slope of the long hill up to West Lake Drive. And there at West Lake Drive, even the stop lights swing in unison and symmetry on either side of the divided lanes.

With this backdrop, which she pointed out, she let me know why she liked the movie Almost Famous but couldn’t connect with The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Among other things* she said, “The symmetry of the movie’s themes with its cinematography is better, more challenging, more thoughtful, and more appropriately matched in Almost Famous.” I thought to myself, “Dude. That is totally what I was gonna say.”

I realized I had had myself a big moment. Damn, my little girl was so interesting and I was spending time with her. I was ecstatic for her to meet someone awesome to be with, who would appreciate her insights like I do. But for now, I was happy taking her to a friend’s house where several kindred spirits were waiting. This was a big conversation and a big insight for me into who she is, and who she is becoming, and who she will be one day a long time from now.

Here’s another big thing. I was small today. I did something not big. I am watching with a great deal of anxiety as I try to determine if my precious people around me are doing well with the uncertainty of my cancer. Today, I invited Will and Ben to throw lacrosse balls or a little bit of football in the front yard. They obliged me. We started to the garage but were waylaid en route by the new juicer from our friends in Cali. We mixed up some pineapples with the skin on (!), some apples with the stem and seeds still inside (!), some whole (!) kiwis, some other equally cool stuff, watched the juicer hum, spin and spew juice into a pitcher, and then drank that sweet nectar down.

Meanwhile Will had grabbed my old baseball mitt. When I entered the garage, he said he wanted to play baseball instead. I can’t throw right now because of this damn tube. (Normally, mind you, I can knock a woodpecker off the side of a century-sized live oak, while running.) So I said, “I can’t play that man,” and closed the door.

It was an uncool thing to do. I should have stopped, thought for few seconds, and said something like, “No worries Will. I can’t throw though, so you’ll have to play something where I can watch.” Because duh. He’s dealing with a lot of stuff right now in that head of his, and not thinking about my feelings all the time. Being the adult, I should have thought of that.

But what’s big, what’s necessary, what’s a surprising thing, is that through a lot of work and thought, I can forgive myself for that and learn from it. Next time I won’t be so selfish. Next time, I will stop and realize that while I may have said I wanted to throw lacrosse balls or footballs, what I really wanted to do was spend time with my boys. I don’t care about the activity, do I. No. I don’t. Holding onto that is big for next time.

Thank God for our intellectual ability to think through these things. It’s what introspection is for after all. If you can’t be introspective, it’s hard for you to improve. You go through life and have very little idea of how your actions may affect someone --- including you --- unless it’s blindingly obvious.

These few minutes of introspection gave me a lesson that I have already used tonight. While my pizza grew cold from Austin’s Pizza, I watched each boy make five three-point attempts times two shots plus two sets of Muhhhhhhnky Dunks. That big moment with baseball gave me the ability to appreciate the next one fully.

Last big moment. Life can be stressful. It moves quickly. You gotta keep up. Ordering food. Driving to kids’ houses. Mixing juices. Buying stuff (like my new camera). Going places. Meeting friends. Making time for yourself. Walking the dog. Reading a bit of the NY Times. Drawing. Watching a really stupid video. Watching it again. And one more time. Eating. Cleaning up. Feeding the dog. Watching a movie. And on and on it goes. This constant to’ing and fro’ing generates a level of urgency in all of us. It’s maddening. It’s a beautiful master, but it takes its toll on us nonetheless. 

What became big to me today was talking to Deb about her night with her mom. It was a wonderful night, and the two of them shared in ways that only a mom and her daughter can share. Things were good. Things were open. Things were how and where they were supposed to be. The waters were calm and deep. And the two of them really had a bonding night. The point is that Deb was so present with her mom. She was there and there was nothing to badger her for the moment. She was in it, the moment that is. And what is big is that the moment delivered.

What’s big is putting the busyness machine on pause and realizing that when we take time for something important to us, it’s time that is ours to spend and we’re spending it on something we care about no matter how big or small. It’s time that is given to us, for us to use.

We can clear the fog of do do do do do do for good. Each of these moments is big because we are there in them. We’re in the car going to the store with each other. We’re on the phone with a close friend. We are eating across the table from our family member. We are walking a dog who ministers to us selflessly and wholly. We are cleaning up the kitchen with our spouse.  

If I can pause to consider why I am going where I am, and with whom, and be more present in those moments, then I can resume with the appreciation and self-benefit that can sometimes get lost in the fog. Whoa. That’s big.

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*If you’re interested in more on why Cate thought that about the movies, read on. She said of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind that anyone can do a grey room with grey clouds in the sky and a mopey actor to show that someone depressed. But the scene from Almost Famous with the lead singer of Stillwater, Russell Hammond, atop the highest point of a roof, about to dive into a pool too shallow, and screaming, “I am a golden god!” perfectly captures the rise and fall of the band, their relationship with William Miller the reporter, Russell’s self-absorption, and Penny’s doomed love affair with him. Boom. Mind blow.