In March 2020, I watched an episode of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood where he talks about dominos (episode 1657, aired in 1992). In it he visits a man who sets up dominos and they watch a track of over 3000 of them go over. This was early in the stay-at-home order so I was inspired to purchase a 200 piece wooden domino set for my kids. I figured it would be a good time-filler-distractor.
As with anything they hit it hard for the first 48 hours; figuring out how to go up and down stairs, make risers with books, and how to make breaks in the line so you didn’t loose the whole track if you bumped one. Soon it fell to the wayside in a tall plastic tub in the toy closet with the legos and kinetic sand.
So the other day I pulled out the domino bucket. It had been a loud day- multiple soundtracks to football games, Disney shows, and Tik Tok videos poured from various devices. As I’ve come to learn, I don’t handle light and noise overstimulation very well, and I felt myself craving a slow, quiet activity.
Auggie and I worked on the floor in silence. Steady fingers pinching each wooden block equally spaced behind the last one. Sweet boy wanted to make a heart, so we each took a side, curving slightly to meet at the bottom. We talked about what to do when it falls over (because inevitably it will), and how to learn from our mistakes when it didn’t work. (This drove engineer husband crazy…he wanted to abandon the trial and error learning process and show us the logic of gravity.) We worked for at least an hour. In periods of content quiet, humming along with our deep work. I tried to put my “should be checking off my to-do list” guilt aside and just be still in that moment. I realized how clouded our thinking can be when we don’t allow for time to just be.
I was walking with a friend yesterday and we talked about what I’ve been up to this past fall and winter. I’ve read, and researched, and listened and chatted with experts. Perhaps in an attempt to not waste this year, I haven’t stopped moving and thinking. In fact, the only thing I haven’t done is to just be still. It is in these moments of stillness that clarity comes. Clarity on how I can use this learning, this passion for kids from tough places, in the best way possible. (Aren’t all adults trying to figure out what they really want to be when they grow up?!)
As I shared in my last post, my 2022 word is bold. I am hopeful that some of our boldest ideas come when we get quiet enough to see what we truly want.
As the last domino fell, we pushed all the colored rectangles together, making sounds like bulldozers. I felt a hopeful flip-flop in my stomach as I thought about the week ahead- vowing to carve out time to be still, listening for what’s most important in the road ahead.
** This gem was a gift from my dear sister for Christmas. Published in 1960, I am convinced Eleanor Roosevelt is a genius. I’m not sure if it’s terrifying or heart-warming that her tips on living and fears of the current status of the country are still relevant today. I wish I could have coffee with her tomorrow. Short and truly delightful.
“One thing life has taught me: if you are interested, you never have to look for new interests. They come to you.” – Eleanor Roosevelt
Teaching the Good Stuff 