Helicopter Rides

A few months ago my husband and I vacationed in incredible Kona, Hawaii (see previous post titled: Air Guitar) and splurged on a helicopter tour of the island. This was the first helicopter ride in my life and I admit to experiencing no small degree of anxiety as I climbed into the cockpit with my fellow passengers, wondering about our sanity in paying a stranger to provide us with an opportunity to hover above the still-spewing and very much-alive volcano, Kilauea. As we lifted off and once I successfully banished all of the "what-if" scenarios screaming in my brain involving loss of altitude, faulty helicopter blades and visions of careening uncontrollably toward the ground, I was able to open my mind up and absorb the amazing view from above.

Cliche as it sounds, what struck me most about the experience was how different everything looked from just a few hundred feet above the ground. I gained a new perspective of the landscape and I was able to appreciate the intricate and beautiful formations crafted by the hardened lava. From above I could see the swirls and connections of ancient flows blending into the more recent flows and I observed how the burning rivers of oozing lava permanently transformed everything that came into its fiery contact. This vista was in stark contrast to how I saw the lava fields prior to my elevated perch.

From the ground, what I saw were miles and miles of brown rock.

From the ground I could not distinguish the subtle nuance of shades of brown.

However, once my feet touched the ground again my perspective of the miles and miles of brown rock was permanently altered. I had new eyes to detect and appreciate the differences in color and texture. This new sensitivity was borne from my experience of changing my altitude.

Last night a new friend provided me a change of altitude--and this time I didn't have to tempt gravity to experience it. Last night I was engaged in the requisite parental after-school waiting drill for my daughter to emerge from play practice. A fellow "Momrade-in-Arms" approached me as I waited in the car with our dog. She wanted to meet Zeebo and also share some positive feedback with me regarding how my daughter has helped her son, a new student, adjust to the school year. This feedback couldn't have come at a better time as, while I was waiting for the school day to come to an end, I had been reflecting on the interactions I had engaged in with my daughter over the past couple of days.

Let me start out saying I am blessed with my teen. All in all, we have a great relationship: we enjoy each other's company; she still shares her thoughts and concerns with me on a regular basis; and we still laugh together. However, for the past couple of days our morning conversations on the ride to school have been laced with, on my part, a heavy dose of analysis of her academic difficulty in a couple of her classes and on her part, defensiveness and anger in reaction to my criticism. The last couple of mornings I have slipped into a bizarre, but seemingly uncontrollable, lecture voice about grades, performance, study skills and college goals. Now I am not suggesting that these topics are not important and worthy of discussion between parents and children--what I am trying to describe is that very fine balance we must all strike as parents: allowing our child to experience the natural consequences (both pros and cons) of their behavior and stepping in as the important adult in their life to take charge and orchestrate the scenario.

Yesterday I was in tears by the time I arrived home from the morning drop-off after my daughter fled the car to start her school day in angry and hurt frustration. I had spent the 20 minute drive to school giving voice to a critical lecture on school performance. On the ride home as I reflected on my part of the conversation, I realized I had opened the door for my ego to waltz in and become overly-involved in my daughter's school performance. Although the umbilical cord was severed by my husband 14 years ago in a delivery room in California, it is times like this, wherein I can skew the situation in a way to unconsciously reanimate that old cord and link her performance or attitude back to me, her mom. After talking with my husband, I realized, again, that she has to do well in school because it is important to her--not to me. She has to feel a sense of pride and achievement in her successes because that feeling is important to her--not me. For the past couple of days I had been focusing on what was not going right and I temporarily lost sight of all that is wonderful and great about my child.

As I pondered this in the car last night while waiting for my daughter to emerge from practice, this new friend approached me to share with me how her son appreciates my daughter's friendship and kind spirit. This parent, whom I didn't know prior to yesterday, spent 15 minutes recounting how my daughter had eased her son's transition to a new middle school and how she enveloped him into her group of friends and stood up for him when he needed an advocate. Her positive comments about my daughter brought tears to my eyes as I listened.

Once again, I was lifted off the ground and provided a new view of the "landscape." I was given the opportunity to see my daughter and our recent interactions from an alternative perspective.

I was able to view my daughter from a new dimension.

I was reminded of my daughter's "wholeness" and that she is greater than the sum of her academic parts.

I needed to get off the ground to see all of her beautiful traits and intricacies of character. When I "landed" and my daughter bounded into the car, I hugged her and once again saw her for the miracle in my life that she is.

Thought for the Day: This entry describes the coaching concept of "meta-view" or looking at things from the "big picture" perspective. What is going on in your life right now in which you could gain some clarity by "taking a helicopter ride?"

Up, up and away in my beautiful balloon... --The Fifth Dimension