Life Happens, Regardless

Muddling versus Weathering

A card and letter arrived from an old friend yesterday. She didn’t get out the traditional holiday letter in December but instead sent a Valentines card. Somehow that is even more special. It speaks of extra effort and thought.

In her annual, big hits update she mentioned the compounding effects of big change. “I’m muddling through…” is what she wrote after photos of family trips. It started with the recent loss of her husband of 50 years, which is beyond anyone else’s true comprehension on its own. Then a career of 40 plus years suddenly disappeared when the owner decided to close instead of sell or transfer the 100-year-old business. Both events were unplanned, a sneaky walloping onto parts of herself once cherished and purposefully tended.

I wonder, where does all that energy go?

Her letter described post-retirement trips to see her sister, sons, and grandsons. I know the letter wasn’t really about visits to sculpture gardens, space needles, and holiday light shows. It spoke about the familial glue that holds her dispersed family together, and how those acts of solidarity to move with her through change demonstrate their love. In her closing she wrote of going about the business of muddling.

If weathering simply moves us through challenges to ultimate safety, muddling speaks to how we cope during the challenges. Weathering pelts us from external forces pushing and pulling. It can be enough to duck and cover until it passes. Passive participation can be a practical solution. Muddling, though, transforms. It asks us to participate.

In cooking, when I muddle spices with a pestle, they look different as broken pieces, course or fine ground. Essentially, they now have a new physical property. Muddling also releases their inner essence. They are the same spice, but different – intrinsically they have new purposes, and extrinsically I perceive them differently.

“I’m muddling through…” speaks volumes of her capacity and endurance through the weathering and does not necessarily require that she arrive on the other side exactly as she was. Muddling, a perfect word choice to let me know she’s going to be okay.