The Constellation Learning Newsletter
March 2007

There’s nothing like a mid-winter getaway, unless you’re headed to someplace where it’s also mid-winter. The only thing that will save your sanity is your attitude.

Nothing like a little practice.

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~ Monthly Message ~

“To be without some of the things you want is an
indispensable part of happiness.”

-- Bertrand Russell

I visited my younger son a couple of weeks ago. Andrew, now almost 23 years old (when did that happen?) moved to San Diego in the fall. This was the longest we have gone without seeing each other and it was a joyous reunion when he picked me up at the airport on a beautiful balmy evening.

Unfortunately, it was the last of the balmy evenings.

The week prior, Andrew informed me, had been the prettiest and warmest of the winter thus far. The week after I left, the weather was once again sunny and warm. But beginning my first morning, a Saturday, for the rest of my stay it was primarily overcast and chilly. That would be chilly by southern California standards; by Canadian standards it was decidedly tolerable, though certainly not bathing suit weather.

Did I mention I had packed my bathing suit? Oh yes. I was looking forward to a beach experience. Let me clarify that: I was anticipating a warm beach experience.

Apparently, that was not to be. I surrendered, rather reluctantly initially, and relaxed into what would be.

Andrew, however, was thrilled. The cold weather, rain and winds had called forth swelling seas and so the surf was up. Way up. Eager to display his now quite proficient surfing skills, the next morning we got up early (way too early for any first day vacation experience as far as I was concerned) and drove to a beach where Andrew said the waves broke better than they did closer to his place. Driving south along the California coast to this better place, the ocean waves sure looked all the same to me: they looked big.

Finally arriving (after I made him stop for coffee; I said it was an emergency) I watched from the top of a cliff, a very high cliff - the kind people my age instinctually back away from - and stood shivering in the rain, watching my son maneuver the waves, attempting to take pictures of him from 100 feet up and 500 feet away.

He wanted me to snap him riding a wave, but I was so far above him, I found it difficult to pick him out of a sea below me dotted with dozens of black wet-suited surfers all sitting on their boards. (Surfing, it seems, is a sport that requires a lot of waiting.) They looked like little black insects to me, just floating on the water. My eyes ached from peering through the rain. Every time I thought I had caught sight of my son, by the time I got the camera on him he disappeared in the midst of the other bobbing blobs below me. I have no idea if I saw him ride a single wave that day.

Hours later, he reappeared at the top of the cliff, having trotted up the precarious narrow winding path, all grins, going “that was great!” Ugly weather, beautiful surfing.

The day I was to leave, again a Saturday, it was sunny and warm. That morning we once again returned to the big cliff. This time I made my way down to the beach with him, stepping very carefully. The walk down (and back up!) will go unmentioned, except to say that people my age aren’t supposed to do it. But the weather was perfect and I was determined to have a beach experience before I left as well as actually witness my son stand up on his board and do something that I could claim I saw.

And I did. Except it was short; as he emerged from the foam he said the waves weren’t cooperating. They looked fine to me, but what do I know? “To much work,” he said as he approached me with his board under his arm, “not enough return on investment - wasn’t any fun.” Beautiful weather, ugly surf.

So up the big hill we went, with me thinking, “This climb is too much work; beautiful weather, ugly climb.” By the time we made it to the top, I had switched my attitude to “this is great because I have two legs that can carry me up, it’s a gorgeous day, and I'm with my son.” (Well, sort of; he had bounded up the path ahead of me.) Once at the top, and after I had stopped gasping for air enough to be able to speak, I grinned and said “That was great! Wish I could do it once a day.”

Happiness really is a state of mind and fun is found where ever you make it. Especially when our plans go awry and a shift from expectation to acceptance is required. And most especially, in the little things, the everyday things, the minutiae. That’s the stuff that fills our lives. Not the big stuff. The everyday little stuff. Like climbing cliffs.

As I sat in the airport, allowing my trembling thighs to recover from their exertion, I thought to myself that this may have been my best vacation ever; I got to exercise my “fun” muscles, which have been sorely underused in the past couple of years.

Kind of like my thighs.

Application Tips:

• “Find Fun”
  A good time doesn’t just happen. And it doesn’t happen with planning. It happens by choosing. It happens when you decide to have some fun. To lighten up and smile. To go with the flow, as they say. When next your “plans” take a left turn, exercise your fun muscle by turning lemons into lemonades. Takes a little more effort, but the return on the investment is worth it.

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