What Reality Taught Me - Summer 2025 Edition

The Speed of Seasons

The seasons pass quickly. For some reason, they seem to speed up once you become a parent. I've noticed how much my kids change during each season and how prone I am to stay the same—or even to calcify a little in my ways. Some people these days seem to think the steady rigidification of adults is just how it goes. Yes, we may be prone to some stiffness in the joints, but I think we're supposed to continue growing in our own way.

With that in mind, with each passing season I want to share something I've discovered in my own explorations that has taught me something. I'm not talking about pure knowledge gained. What I hope to share is something that has given me a sense of inner lightness and freedom, even within the constraints of this parental life that is so filled with duty and practical considerations.

We parents don't have the luxury of being monks or nuns. We show up by being present for the people we love in a world that can make talk of finding stillness feel impossible—if not insulting to our way of being. But reality is always teaching us lessons, or at least dropping little breadcrumbs that can lead us back to the truth of who we are and our own inherent wisdom.

When Summer Plans Blow Up

In my household, this has been a summer of unexpected asks and disruption of daily structure—but also of tremendous joy and connection. We started the summer with plans to travel out of town once or twice. We had our big trip to Banff National Park planned, three good weeks of camps set up for the boys, and otherwise we said we were really going to prioritize some chill time.

Before the boys were even off from school, our summer plans blew up. With asks to show up for 90th birthday reunions, attend multiple friend gatherings, fulfill unexpected work shifts in remote locations, and on and on, we ended up adding a lot to our planned, simple summer.

This is nothing unique. I know all you parents get it—this is just life. Well, I don't always get it at first. Instead, I resist. I set expectations for more days hanging around the house, more weekends when I can take the boys to hit tennis balls, play basketball, or explore local hikes and bike trails as a family. Luckily, I come around. We all come around eventually. We get on board with what's happening and realize that it's all good.

The Planning Trap

The hurdle I've seen myself trip over again and again in these situations is that I try to out-plan the unexpected. When the new ask arrives, I get busy planning. I try to out-think the situation like it's a problem with a solution somewhere out there that I can arrive at if I plan well enough. But the unexpected is just life. And there's no way to plan your way into an enjoyable life. You just have to live it. You have to see the barrier inside yourself that's preventing you from living it and decide if you're mature enough to let it go.

For me, this controlling type of planning is a deeply programmed part of how I instinctively interface with the world. I'm from a family of planners, and training for my job didn't do me any good in loosening my grip and desire to control through planning. So I know it's going to always be there as a part of me, but I think I'm finally at a point where I'm okay with seeing it, saying "no" to it kindly, and enjoying a little more open-feeling life.

A Poem That Changed My Perspective

Just before leaving for Banff, I read a poem by David Whyte in a collection of poetry that my wife and kids got me for Father's Day called What to Remember When Waking. Here's the excerpt from the poem that really stuck with me and helped me realize I'm ready to see through this pattern of habitual contraction through planning:

"There is a small
opening
into the day
that closes
the moment
you begin
your plans.

What you can plan
is too small
for you to live.

What you can live
wholeheartedly
will make plans
enough for the vitality
hidden in your sleep"

Pretty good stuff, right?

Slight Improvement?

In Banff, my wife and I could have made a million plans. Instead, we kept it simple and did what felt right. Sure, it's easier on vacation to keep it simple, but still, it was really nice. We've brought that energy back home with us, and I'm excited to see where it leads us this fall.

All of this doesn't mean I'm done with planning. I think I'm just ready to approach it differently and view it more as an exercise in providing clarity for myself and those I need to coordinate with. Gone are my illusions that I can craft the perfect plan by out-thinking life. From now on, I'm going to try to actually be in this present moment when I make a plan and focus on noticing what stories are going through my head and how I can communicate clearly about where I am and what I'm thinking and feeling right now.

Maybe at the conclusion of next summer, I'll give an update on how things are going.