A famous aikido master says when you can learn to dance on a shifting carpet, you’ll never have the rug pulled out from under you again.
I actually used to say that. A lot. Well, part of it, at least: “someone pulled the rug out from under me!” I’d complain pitifully. It was colossally unfair, my bruises were humongous, my butt was in excruciating pain. I didn’t quite get the part about dancing.
Then, without my permission, without even being asked if I minded, I was transformed into a single parent with two kids, a dog, a hamster, three to eight cats, a bunch of perpetually imperiled parakeets, two mortgages, a seriously leaking roof, a disabled parent, and a law practice full of clients with problems ranging from incomprehensible to insoluble. All of which bred unpredictability faster than rabbits in the springtime. The rug flew out from under me more times than I could count. I stayed off balance, not infrequently on my ass, and, no surprise, I was really miserable a lot of the time.
I tried to be happier, I really did. My first tactic was to gain control of my life. Not that I had control issues or anything. I tried many creative approaches to achieve control, for example, sleeping fewer hours and threatening my kids more. This didn’t work.
Then I got proactive. I changed my career, my therapist, and my hairstyle, among other things. But life was still unpredictable. Sometimes it felt downright brutal. Like my four-year-old in a barber’s chair, life wouldn’t hold still. And the changes I made didn’t stop life from its own twist and turns.
Then I realized what I’m sure you already know: no matter how many to-do lists or threats you make, life won’t let itself be hammered, roped, cajoled, or glued down. Those whimsical twins, Surprise and Change, are always popping up.
Sometimes it’s fantastic: you find a $100 bill in a parking lot or you suddenly meet a really fantastic person (i.e., a guy.) And he’s really interested in you as a person. And he has a job and a car.
Sometimes the surprises are spectacular curveballs: like, say, your new boyfriend, the one with so much promise, takes your kids out to buy Easter egg dye on a lovely, warm spring evening. And somehow, he gets arrested. And he tells you that his ex-wife didn’t pay the registration fees on his car like she was supposed to, and you wonder how come he didn’t do it and why he got arrested for that, and your kids tell everyone you know about the cool ride they took in the police car, and your ex-husband asks you a lot of pointed questions, and you can’t stop thinking of Helen Hunt’s bewildered line in As Good As It Gets: “Why can’t I just have a normal boyfriend?”
When I accepted the constant companionship of Surprise and Change, something magical happened: I began to change from the inside out, to feel happy most of the time, no matter what happened. (At least I didn’t marry the guy, I’d whisper gratefully to no one in particular.) And, I’d tap, tango, and mashed potato across whatever carpet I was on.
And that’s how it goes. Sometimes you get to pirouette, in bare feet, on a jewel-toned, silken carpet. Sometimes there’s ice underfoot, so you pull on your thick, wool socks and your boots with the heavy tread, and your dance is more of a stomp. Sometimes life whirls at you so fast all you can do is improvise.
Life is movement and movement is change. When you get this, you can usually land on your feet. Then, more and more, you’re twirling and boogieing, arms outstretched in pure delight.
And that’s what my work is about now–exploring how to salsa, shimmy, and cha-cha-cha on the shifting carpet of life. And I invite you to join me in the dance.
6 responses so far ↓
1 Lou // Jan 21, 2008 at 7:53 pm
I like the Buddhist concept that everything is impermanent, not unlke the shifting carpet. Once I really got that, including the fact that everything and everyone that is born will die, it seemed much easier to accept change and to deal with it more gracefully. I came out of a major shift, end of job and one career, end of marriage, moving to an isolated place, dealing with health issues, all this at the same time. I was overwhelmed, poverty stricken, extremely tired and depressed and very lonely. What better time to learn how truly strong, resourceful and valuable we are? It has been a slow process, but I see so much growth in myself andIam really embracing the change with gusto. I am so glad Iam the new and improved version of my old self.
2 Bridgette Boudreau // Jan 30, 2008 at 1:08 am
What a pleasure to read. My sponsor used to say to me, “Change is an inside job.” So true. I’m so glad our paths converged on this journey. Adding your blog to my rss feed!
3 Sylvia Heed // Feb 2, 2008 at 3:48 pm
This is why the willow is the strongest tree. It bends instead of breaking, dancing in the breezes. Still standing after all the storms, stronger than ever.
4 alex // Mar 15, 2008 at 10:51 am
Indeed, Dancing with Life is dancing with change… And so, that (Valentine’s) love letter to oneself must – in a way – be written every day. I’ve worked hard to begin to love myself again and, a couple of years on, it’s looking like I’m going to make it.
Just as with any relationship though, there need to be good habits and some maintenance! Body –diet (listening to my body, but also see below
; exercise (yoga – ever learning, swimming – very fast, and jogging – very slow 
; Mind (great, challenging career, and lots of reading); Spirit (various meditative endeavors).
I’ve learned that I’m bright – which wasn’t within my reach before, that I’m attractive – despite my huge feet
and my hair that’s starting to grey, that I’m STRONG – regardless of what I myself used to think! And that’s just for starters…
However, the love letter should also be about deeds. There was a time when I was compelled to spend weekends first balancing my checkbook, then trying to balance my life through chores. Now, every Sunday morning, I put on one of my yoga t-shirts, a pair of jeans, my favorite flip-flops, and go to “my” Whole Foods in South Miami. Before undertaking a leisurely grocery-shopping excursion, I treat myself to some hot tea and goodies from the bakery while scanning the Herald and doing some people-watching.
What you write is comforting, Terry.
Namaste
5 Julie // Apr 7, 2008 at 2:42 pm
Very interesting. I really try to go with the flow of life, or the dance of life. I try to be graceous. But, I always question myself. Am I going with the flow to much, is that possible? I don’t expect much, but I feel I’m not getting anywhere in life. I’m not lazy, I’m always doing something for someone. I have had one thing or another go wrong. 5 years ago just when I felt like I paid my dues of the hard times , made sacrifices. I finally purchased my first home and bam a car accident . I ended up losing everything I worked for. I am back at square one.For the last 10 years it has financially,emotionally and physically been exhausting and my pain in is overwelming at times. I am so confused and I blame myself every day, I never thought it would be so hard to recover from a car accident. I really thought I would be in a different place by the time I was in my 30s. But I’m only 32 so i guess I have 8 more years to get it right.
Terry , I am really excited to learn a different dance, I appreciate & thank you for your time.
6 My Self-Care, Your Self-Care // Oct 27, 2010 at 7:54 pm
[...] her article, Dancing with Life, Master Life Coach Terry DeMeo tells of an Aikido Master who advises, “when you can learn to [...]
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