Today let's talk about solving problems. Let's talk about ideas in the night, shifting a pebble and setting off an avalanche, and the satisfaction of seeing a dream come alive. And while we're at it, let's talk about moving a piano.
I paused mid-push and mopped my brow. Why are pianos so heavy? I wondered. Then I bent to my work again. One inch at a time, one groan at a time, sliding on its felt castors, I inched it into place. Phew!
What on earth was I doing, you ask? Well, it's a long story.
I have a question for you. Have you ever struggled with a problem that's so complicated it seems impossible? It's like a big gnarled knot of string that you pull on and tug this way and that, and the more you wrestle with it, the more tangled it becomes. Perhaps it's been part of your life for so long, you've given up trying. It just sits there, and you walk by it every day with a sigh. Or maybe it's so huge, you're right there in the middle of it, trapped.
But then one day - maybe you look at it from a different angle, or just stop struggling so hard - one day you look and there, in all that tangle, you see one tiny frayed end poking out from the tangle - something you never tried before. You ease it through, and the next step shows itself. Little by little, slowly, gently, you loosen the strands that held you for so long, until it all falls away, and you're free.
That's why I'm moving a piano.
It all started one night when I was lying awake, fretting. Mind you, my problem wouldn't be all that interesting to anyone else. But it had been my pet peeve for months: our cluttered kitchen. With our children gone, the table was too long, the space was crowded and cold, and the floors and table ended up piled with stuff. The whole room felt unwelcoming. For a long time I haven't even wanted to eat there, and mostly we've been eating meals on trays in the living room. Depressing.
See what I mean? A tangled problem. Not all that earth-shaking, but it sure mattered to me.
Then, suddenly, lying there, I saw a chink of light - one small idea. Hmm. You know, if I moved that bookshelf in the living room, there'd be room for... and then I could...and then... Suddenly I was wide awake and my head was buzzing with plans. "I could do this... but then I'd have to... well, that would work..."
Eureka! Step by step, and at the end of it all, suddenly I could just picture it: a lovely nook, with flowers and a steaming hot meal, and the two of us eating together. A space for eating and games and conversation that we haven't had in a long while. I fell asleep, smiling.
In the morning that image was still there, clear as day. I thought of all it would involve and quailed, but was determined.
Changes are hard, aren't they? Plan on blisters and dust bunnies and an aching back. Everything I did set off a cascade of consequences, one small act bumping another and gathering momentum. Emptying and moving and refilling bookcases, a cupboard, a desk, a printer stand, rolling furniture on dollies, culling through books to give away, cleaning and dusting. One step, then the next, a slow, tumbling shift like a giant game of musical chairs. And, of course, moving a piano.
But finally it was done. Last week we brought in a smaller, round dining table, and finally the vision I'd had that night was complete. I cooked us dinner, set the table with a candle and flowers, and we sat down to eat supper. It was cozy and comfortable, and oh, so satisfying.
So as I sit here, I'll imagine you at the table too. Let's lift a glass and make a toast, shall we? Here's to inspirations, and holding a picture in your head of a better life or a better world, and working, step by straining step, to make it happen.
Here's to this complicated, vexing, wonderful life, and to the problems that challenge us to grow and make us better people. Let's raise our glasses, too, in a toast to everyone we know who's ever tackled a problem and made their lives better, little by little - who've lost weight or built houses or gotten sober or moved a piano.
And here's to you, and whatever tangles, big or small, you're coping with these days. Keep believing, and keep looking for that little chink of light that can lead the way out.
Cheers!