The IndieWeb writing prompt for April 2025 is
renewal.
One of the things that I struggled with in the
early days of parenting was the repetitive nature
of my day. Every two- or three-hour cycle brought
the same kinds of tasks: nursing, diapers,
snuggles, sleep. Nothing could be crossed off a
to-do list, nothing stayed done. Nothing built up
towards tangible accomplishment, or at least, not
for me.
There was change. A+ grew by leaps and bounds. One
day she could only roll in one direction; the next
she could roll every which way. My job was to take
care of the foundation so that she could grow, to
take care of all the repetitive tasks so that she
could have all her firsts.
I remember thinking of the Zen kōan (sometimes attributed to Wu Li and sometimes elsewhere)
Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.
After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.
I don't claim to understand this fully yet, but I
remember reasoning: these things had to be done. I
signed up for them. Every day we still need to
take care of ourselves and others. Some people
make major lifestyle changes and forgo a high
income in order to shift to a contemplative
monastic life with the same kind of cycles. I can
do it where I am. Maybe I can even treat them as
moving meditations.
I recently finished reading The Courage to Be Disliked (Fumitake Koga and Ichiro Kishimi, 2013).
Part of the book talks about seeing life as a dance:
Do not treat [life] as a line. Think of life as a series of dots. … Life is a series of moments, which one lives as if one were dancing, right now, around and around each passing instant. And when one happens to survey one's surroundings, one realizes, I guess I've made it this far. … With dance, it is the dancing itself that is the goal, and no one is concerned with arriving somewhere by doing it. Naturally, it may happen that one arrives somewhere as a result of having danced. Since one is dancing, one does not stay in the same place. But there is no destination.
Thanks to that tide of ever-renewing tasks that
engulfed my day in the beginning and is only now
beginning to calm, I've been slowly learning to
let go of the desire for my own forward motion. I
circle, and circle, and circle, and that's okay.
I'm settling into the rhythm of our days, knowing
that the beat will change over time. Sometimes I
look up and I'm surprised at how far we've come.
… Aaaaaaand now I've got Dancing Through Life in
my head. I definitely fall on the side of
overthinking things more than swanning my way
through life, but maybe I can learn more about
relaxing into it.
Another comforting thought, this time from
Meditations for Mortals (Oliver Burkeman, 2024),
about how we don't have to do something
extraordinary:
The first is that it simply need not follow, from
our cosmic insignificance as individuals, that our
actions don't matter. The idea that things only
count if they count on the vastest scale is one
more expression of our discomfort with finitude:
accepting that they might count only transiently,
or locally, requires us to face our limitations
and our mortality. … Instead, you get to pour
yourself into tasks that matter for no other
reason than that nothing could be more enlivening,
or more true to the situation in which you find
yourself.
My life is still mostly full of the everyday
rhythms, but that's okay. I don't change diapers
any more, but there are still dishes to be done
and snuggles to snuggle. When W- offers to do the
dishes, I can say, "Thanks, I got it, I enjoy this
part." In between, I'm slowly reclaiming time to
do my own accumulation of progress. I'm even
beginning to be able to write about life. Now I
feel more at ease with the undirectedness of it,
the little steps in my own dance.
• • • • •
Sometimes, of course, we stumble during the dance.
Life with A+ isn't always smooth. Sometimes I
(figuratively or literally) step on her foot.
Sometimes we're out of sync. Sometimes we have a
bad day. I'm learning that I don't have to feel
too guilty about it, or try to fix it right away, or
worry that I've permanently messed things up.
Today, I can take the loss, the failure. Tomorrow
is another day, another renewal. We can try
something else then.
Besides, there's no point in trying to sort things
out in the moment, when people are dysregulated.
Better to take notes and figure out what to
experiment with next time. There's so much to
learn, and that's good.
This is probably something I'm going to need to
remember when we head into adolescence, for at
least as long as there are tomorrows I can share
with A+.
• • • • •
That's the last aspect of renewal that I wanted to
touch on: how parenting is helping me (re-)learn
and examine all sorts of things. The skill of
figuring things out together. The lessons that A+
is taking at school. The things I find fun. The
hang-ups I've been carrying within me since my own
childhood, and how I can untangle them. The parks
and playgrounds and libraries in the city. The joy
of sunshine. The way seeds sprout and perennials
return in the garden. Everything is new all over
again.
This is probably something I'll want to learn as
much about during my kid-phase so that I can still
enjoy it in my post-kid phase. I think the people
who age the most gracefully are the ones who keep
wondering, learning, and enjoying life, both
familiar ground and the new opportunities that
arise. I'd like to be one of those people. Renewal
isn't just about going back to a previous state,
like an axolotl regrowing a lost limb. Even with
the rhythm of the same steps in this dance, I can
find myself in new places, and I myself am
changed.