#lettingjoyin

Today, I've decided to channel my inner grasshopper and let the ant take a little rest. We all know the story of the ant and the grasshopper - the hardworking and impressively responsible ant who diligently spends the summer stocking up on food and securing shelter for the harsh winter ahead, while the capricious and far too carefree grasshopper spends the summer lounging in the fields and enjoying the heck out of the glorious sunshine. As a hardworking and impressively responsible individual by nature, I always secretly enjoyed that ‘told you so’ moment at the end of the story, when the ant who has clearly made the better choices gets to swoop in and save the grasshopper by generously opening the door to its warm home and sharing the abundant stock of food when winter rolls around.

Last summer, I was searching up this story in Latvian to use in my teaching, and was intrigued to find three different possible endings, which I’d never come across before. Moreover, it was a remarkable revelation to realize that given various options, the traditional ending did not resonate joyously with me as it once had. Here are the variations: 1. The ant swoops in and saves the day - she is a hero both because of her diligence and because of her generosity (definitely aspirational for the old me). If grasshoppers had tails, she’d certainly slink into the house with the tail between her legs, and the ant probably gives her a scorching teacher look, just to seal the deal and ensure that the ugly lesson has been learnt (yikes! - also, embarrassingly, definitely the old me). 2. The ant gets great pleasure in turning the grasshopper away into the harsh winter, because why should she even consider sharing her hard work and good fortune (yuck! - this has never resonated with me and I hope it never does…). 3. The ant welcomes the grasshopper in and the grasshopper reciprocates the ant’s generosity by sharing her gift of playing music, so the long bleak winter passes even more colorfully and warmly for both the ant and the grasshopper as the two share their riches with one another (wow! - now this feels like something to aspire towards!).

In Waldorf education, storytelling plays a hugely important role in the primary years. Through the different characters and actions, we are introduced to different aspects of our own self. Our soul then experiences a natural expansion or constriction, a like or a dislike for things with which it aligns with or does not, and this is how we discover ourselves as we move through this world. I especially appreciate that in Waldorf education, teachers are not meant to color the story and its characters or events one way or another. Teachers are not meant to insert their own commentary or personal opinions, and also there is no push to discuss or formulate immediate reflections with the children. If something sits strongly with them, they’ll comment on their own and then a natural discussion can unfold, but more often than not our experiences (including the ones we bump up against through storytelling) need to sit with us for a while, and we don’t serve anyone by rushing the processing. Maybe later that day or week, the children will produce their own commentary through play or in snack time discussions, or maybe not. We all process in our own good time. I’m definitely still learning to give others and especially children (as well as myself!) the respectful space we all deserve to take in and make sense of the world and ourselves at our own pace. Because isn’t it so that the grasshopper and the ant aren’t actually two different creatures, but both aspects of our very selves? And isn’t it so that they are both good and they both serve their golden purpose, we just have to unravel and become more skilled at knowing when to employ which and how to keep them balanced? (And isn’t it so, these lessons are best learnt when they come from within ourselves, not because someone told us or scorched us with ‘told you so’ looks?)

Today’s train of thought was spurred by exponentially rising meat prices. Looking through weekly grocery flyers, I cued in on some excellent sales. I panicked. My freezer is already full! What if I miss this moment for stocking up?! I literally felt my ant-like tendencies kicking into overdrive.

And then I remembered my story about chocolate chips and relaxing into the moment and trusting that the future will take care of itself. Because so far, the track record is that 100% every new moment does indeed sort itself out.

Chocolate chips will forever be my reminder to cultivate gratitude for what the present moment has to offer….and for heaven’s sake, enjoy the heck out of it here and now! For our fifteen years in Latvia, my parents were wonderful about sending regular care packages filled with odds and ends that were unavailable to us - some were genuine needs like the only brand of eye drops that successfully soothes my seasonally red and wildly itchy allergy eyes, but they also appeased plenty of wants like powdered coffee creamers in a variety of fun flavors. During my first years in Latvia, some of the top things I really, really missed (hovering dangerously close to the borderline of wants/needs) were Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and chocolate chips. There wasn’t much my parents could do from the US to help with the ice cream situation, but they would send copious amounts of chocolate chips. And you know what I mostly did with those chocolate chips? I hoarded them. Deep in a top shelf that was far out of reach, so they couldn’t tempt me too much. It took a remarkably special occasion for me to crawl up on a chair and release a precious bag into the world to be enjoyed. Until it came time to move and I dug out the chocolate chip stash to pack them up. The bags were mostly solid bricks of crusty chocolate. They’d melted and hardened so many times over the seasons they spent in those shelves, there wasn’t anything appetizing about them anymore (sorry, Mom and Dad!). In all my stinginess with saving for a rainy day instead of allowing myself to enjoy what was perfectly available in the moment, I’d missed the moment altogether. With the thunk of each bag hitting the bottom of the trash can, I decided at least with food, the best way to go was to enjoy the heck out of what was available when it was available, acknowledging that when another food was available, I’d enjoy the heck out of that. When in Latvia, I’d enjoy honey cake and fresh rye bread and pīrāgi (Latvia’s legendary ham/bacon rolls), and when in the US, I’d enjoy my Ben and Jerry’s and Taco Bell. I’d consume fresh strawberries with the greatest abandon during those precious few weeks in summer - no guilt for overeating when they’re available and no grumpiness when they’re not in season because that means I’m probably missing out on something else available to me now. No worries about that which wasn’t, but uninhibited joy and gratitude for that which is. Strange, how I learned this first with food and only later with things that matter more in life like my use of time which is categorically irreplaceable, but at least I got there.

Would I like a larger freezer? Well, yes. I think we will always have the desire to create more and more security for ourselves, but as it turns out, hoarded chocolate chips melt into regrettable clumps of garbage.

It's one thing to plan ahead for winter, but it's quite another to let that become such a laserbeam in your life that you miss out on the warm summer right before your very eyes. My inner ant is a particularly active character, but I’m becoming better at noticing when enough is enough and gently shifting my focus less on the practical and more on the beautiful. Here and now. We are ok, and in fact more than ok. Today, I’m giving my inner ant the day off, so I can lean into the grasshopper and enjoy the moment.

This is my soundtrack for Living in the Moment.

Our backyard has transformed into flight school for baby birds! #lettingjoyin They live in our neighbor's tree but there are dogs in all the yards around us, so when the parents shoo them out of the nest, they are dropping down into our yard. We noticed them at dinner time last night and have been keeping close tabs on them since - as Austris said: it's a nature show in our own backyard! (And then he proceeds to deepen his voice and narrate events for us as they are unfolding.

) The little one pictured in the branches was just hanging on by a toenail after losing its balance stretching its legs while the parents ranted at it - just go already! A's commentary: when it comes to survival in nature, scolding your child like an army general is the most natural thing on earth.