The Micro-Macro Muddle

How do we zoom out and in without going mad?

For clients and work-related challenges, it’s exhilarating, inspiring– the fusion of creative thinking, strategic analysis, twenty years of experience and an ever-evolving palette of tools. I LOVE it.

It’s like heli-skiing (which I would never do) where you get this massively excellent 20,000-foot birds-eye view one minute and the next you’re in it. A mental adrenalin rush.

Parenting, however, is a totally different story.

I want my 20,000 foot brilliant macro plan to be accessible at the SAME time as my carefully thought out micro execution.

Here’s why. When it comes to our children I am a chronic second-guesser. And I tend to forget the big picture when there is too much static in my small one. I forget each element does not in fact need to be a whole universe in itself.

Example: We want the boys to speak the language of music and visual art.

Words, so often, fall short. To be able to lose yourself in a rhythm, melody, brushstroke or explosive burst of yellow seems essential to the inner resilience needed for a full life. This is the macro plan.

The micro plan for music has morphed and evolved. From the piano end we have moved from classical/ popular private instruction to keyboard lessons at School of Rock.

There is less melody but more core chord progressions. Less sing-able songs but a developing sense of how all the instruments synthesize into music. And I can’t help but question is one better? Which will help more? Should we have stuck with private?

I forget that all these micro choices feed the macro plan. And maybe it’s not necessary to get so wound up in the particulars.

And YET, I am the curator.

I can curate an exhibit with bare bones folk music or bring in the Boston Pops symphony. I can curate an exhibit where proper fingering is used to play Scott Joplin or the keyboard is used to rock out ‘You Wanna Be Startin’ Something’.

I seem to forget, as the curator, that I am not actually a 5’2 ½ foot human god. There are actually small child patrons who will take from various exhibits what they need, which will most likely be totally different from what I intend.

I wish I’d remember this more because it is such a relief!

I feel like our main job now is to curate according to what makes their faces light up. What makes them come alive. What they love.

I think about this all the time, but this morning, I was painfully reminded of it upon hearing that two friends of ours lost someone dear to them last night. One his son. And one her father. Two souls who lit up the faces of those they loved.

We do the best we can. Love the best we can. Not everything is up to us.

There are bigger plans than ours.

And there is love, which transcends it all.

Wishing you love this first week-end in April, wherever your heart may be.