I think I'll move to Australia

Did you ever read that children's book, "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible No Good, Very Bad Day" by Judith Viorst?

It's about a little boy who has one of those days that really blows. By the end of  his horrible day, when he's forced to wear his railroad train pajamas because his favorite jammies are in the wash, Alexander loses it and wants to move to Australia.

I'm ready for Australia too.

Lately, I've had a string of Alexander days. It's really an accumulation of challenges--from small ripples to crushing tsunami waves--threatening to overturn my canoe and to steal my joy. I'm paddling through these challenging waves, but it's hard to keep paddling when your arms ache.

Yesterday I felt exhausted from paddling so hard without making any progress. I wondered when I'd reach a calmer spot in the river so I can catch my breath.

I was lamenting the trials and tribulations buffeting my boat when I popped into a grocery store and had a reality check. In an "aha" moment, my eyes were averted from my own boat and problems.

I am only five-foot-two and often have to climb up grocery store shelves to reach my cereal or other out-of-reach item. Or sometimes I seek out a tall person to retrieve my cereal from the top shelf. Never in my life have I been someone else's tall person.

As I reached for something high above my head, a voice below me asked, "Would you grab one for me?"

I turned to see a tiny woman with many, many more challenges than I have. Her legs had not fully developed. She was sitting on a motorized platform scooter.

"Sure," I said, grabbing another. "Why do they put things up here so we short women can't reach them?"

"Beats me," she laughed.

At that moment, I realized that although my challenges are daunting, they aren't as enormous as I had imagined.

I'll paddle through them, one stroke at a time.

Go with the flow

Has your life turned out exactly as you planned it?

My own life has taken a series of unexpected twists and turns, particularly in the past two years during this challenging economy.Perhaps yours has too.

Paddling my canoe around a bend in the river, I've encountered dangerous rapids that threatened to capsize my boat and dump me into icy water. Through these turbulent times, I've learned it's crucial to keep my focus on what's important and to not lose my nerve as I continue paddling forward to reach calmer waters just around the next bend.

When you're struggling to keep afloat in turbulent waters, it's crucial to go with the flow. Don't fight the current that's carrying you in a new, unexpected direction. Instead, set your sights on the horizon and paddle with a renewed energy. Eventually, you'll reach calmer waters and will be able to breathe again.

Last week I encountered menacing whitewater that forced me to change course unexpectedly. I had to move from Wisteria Cottage, the sweet 540-square-foot artist's studio I've called home for the past three months.
Originally, the owner had planned to put the property on the market next spring. But a potential buyer knocked on her door, which means I must move many months before I'd planned.

My first reaction was deer-in-the-headlights panic. Where would I live? I doubt I'll ever own a home again, and my budget doesn't allow the luxury of renting my own apartment. I let friends know I was looking for a new home for me and Anakin Skywalker, my cat. Within hours, I had several offers.

We're moving in with my dear friend, Patty. She owns a cozy two-bedroom home built for Kaiser shipyard workers during World War II. I'm looking forward to having the luxury of a bathroom, kitchen, running water. Heat! Mostly, I'm looking forward to Patty's company as we explore hiking trails, rivers, bookstores, estate sales and coffee shops this fall and winter.

Through my many moves, Patty kept offering me a place to live, but her house is so small that I didn't want to possibly ruin our friendship by living in such close quarters. After living in 540 square feet with no plumbing for three months, I'm convinced that Patty's home is plenty big enough for two mighty women and one finicky cat.

So I'm moving for the fourth time in 22 months. My gypsy lifestyle is not without benefits. Through each move, I've let go of more stuff. Lightened my load. I've downsized from 2,400 to 540 square feet. I can do this. As sweet summer turns to crisp fall, I'm gathering boxes and paddling my boat through this challenge to reach calmer waters just around the next bend in the river.

Here's an Irish ballad written in the 1840s that has inspired me to keep paddling, even when I've been pelted with enormous waves. I hope it inspires you too.

 

Paddle Your Own Canoe

I’ve traveled about a bit in my time,
And troubles I’ve seen a few.
And found it better in ev’ry clime
To paddle my own canoe.

My wants are small I care not at all.
If my debts are paied when due.
I drive away strife, in the ocean of life
While I paddle my own canoe.

If a hurricane rise in mid’day sky
And the sun is lost to view
Move steadily by, with a steadfast eye
And paddle your own canoe.

Fields of daisies that grew in bright green
And blooming so sweet for you
So never sit down, with a tear or a frown
But paddle your own canoe.

 – Irish ballad, circa 1840, published in Jane Benedickson’s Idleness, Water and a Canoe