Fix or Figure it Out: Using the Goodness of Life
By Jennifer Paros
The other day I was in the grocery store, and when the cashier finished scanning my groceries, I handed him my store “rewards” card – which provides discounts and other benefits – and he scanned it. Not a minute later, when I presented my coupons, he asked if I had a card. Offhandedly, I said, “I just showed it to you. Don’t you remember?” He didn’t say anything and we continued, but by the time we were done, the dynamic was cool despite me trying to make it friendly. As I was leaving, what I’d said came back to me.
The best time to apologize had passed, and I wasn’t sure how to make the situation better; he was busy and onto the next customer. I perseverated over this on the way home, and concluded I didn’t know how to fix it. My cashier’s name was Edgar, and later, while getting ready to work, I took a blank index card and wrote EDGAR on it and laid it on my desk. I didn’t know why.
The card sat there for days. Each time I looked at it, I felt goodwill towards Edgar. I discovered I could be unhappy about something, not know how to fix it, and still hold to the good (in me, in others, and in life) and in some form, resolution comes. Writing the card helped me feel the kindness of my intention, which put me back in right relation to myself. Later, this feeling found expression when I had the opportunity to see Edgar again, and we were warm and outgoing with each other, both seemingly determined to make it a good interaction.
Years ago, in another Grocery Store Incident, I accidentally clipped the heel of an old woman with my cart. I apologized immediately, but she quickly ran off – down and out of the isle. Her husband was left behind, and I earnestly apologized to him. He turned to me and said, “Next time, watch where you’re going!” There was to be no moment of understanding in which they accepted that I was actually a good person despite the momentary reckless handling of my grocery cart. I blamed them for punitively holding me hostage as the bad guy by not accepting my apology. But now I see I was only held hostage by me. All I needed was for me to accept that I was still good. I was just mad because I wanted them to do it first and they weren’t going to.
I couldn’t fix the situation externally; the old couple would not have it. It’s fine when we can outwardly fix things or figure them out, but often life doesn’t unfold that way, and we must work with experiences from the inside first.
Recently, I returned to working on a story on which I’d previously written about a hundred pages. I’d stopped because I gradually found myself writing things I wasn’t interested in and that didn’t feel real to me. Though I was no longer writing it, I would occasionally jot down ideas for the story. Then one day, I knew how I wanted to approach it. But I was reticent.
I was concerned about getting stuck again – of how I’d feel if I wasn’t able to finish it, or didn’t like the outcome. My mindset demanded to know how everything would be sorted and turn out, and to use those answers to guide and reassure me. But I finally decided that in order to truly free myself, I’d ask only that I sit with the story each day for an hour. I didn’t have to figure out or fix anything, just spend time with it. Sitting with the story tuned me to the good in the characters, their world, and my connection to it, which then served as my guide through the writing process.
It doesn’t matter that we can’t always fix or figure things out; not being able to doesn’t have to imprison us. There is something in us much greater than fixing and figuring out – creating. We don’t have to suffer in our not knowing because we can find what’s at the heart of our interest and caring about anything – the good in it. The good inspires our willingness and willingness moves us forward.
Sometimes we have experiences we don’t like or want or know how to fix or figure out. But there is always an inherent goodness to life that, if focused upon, will see us through. The way we experience it in the world is by finding it and feeling it in ourselves first.
Jennifer Paros is a writer, illustrator, and author of Violet Bing and the Grand House (Viking, 2007). She lives in Seattle. Please visit her website.