Thrust into the jungle of single life and single-parenthood, you may feel out of step, off-rhythm. Recall, that in order to successfully negotiate life’s new demands, its useful to access experiences (resources) from your past in which you were remarkably successful and flexible, and use them now. A story will illustrate. Make yourself comfortable…
Once in a remote forest, there lived a centipede named Clyde, who was known for his fancy footwork. He moved with a relentless, uncanny rhythm, exhibiting great skill and versatility in foraging for food, carrying objects long distances, climbing tall trees, building homes, clearing deceased colleagues from his path and defending himself against natural enemies. He was a model insect; every segment providing a useful choice, functioning in rhythm, tuned and contributing to the overall orchestration of the species. But alas, one day–as is often the fate of his kind– he became separated from the last three segments of his acclaimed body, which encountered the sole of a human boot, carelessly pounding its way through the forest. Bewildered at first, Clyde wondered what had gone awry. Hadn’t he avoided falling victim to “centipede syndrome” (failure to get out of one’s own way)? Hadn’t he cleverly soft-stepped his way through the arduous tasks which confront a centipede throughout his life? Hadn’t he gained the respect of his peers for his multi-faceted talents? How could such an ignominious fate befall one so celebrated?
Clyde considered the limitations. How had the rhythm changed, now that a section of the orchestra was missing? Would he be caught short? What shape would he be in when it became necessary to find and store food, or defend himself? How would he pick up the pieces and keep moving? How long would he just sit there and ask all these silly questions? The longer he remained motionless, contemplating the limitations of his ill-fated predicament, the more entangled his remaining legs became; and his footwork would be seen by others as anything but “fancy.”
Just as his confidence in himself to perform reached its lowest ebb, Clyde noticed something truly remarkable: He was not alone. A snake had furtively uncoiled itself from a nearby tree branch and was moving steadily toward Clyde, his potential mid-afternoon snack. How curious it seemed that this creature, moving so differently had the ability to perform gracefully, contracting and expanding as it edged toward its goal. It’s so basic! Don’t we all have to crawl before we walk? Is it possible that the very attribute which others of his species revered was not essential in achieving an outcome? Were there other choices afoot? Suddenly, face to face with the snake, Clyde became intensely motivated to change his state and bowed-out gracefully…in a hurry. Soft-stepping, then contracting and expanding, then soft-stepping again, followed by contracting and expanding. Soon he discovered, to his delight, that he was capable of carrying out all of the tasks in which he engaged previously, plus a few new ones! Once again he was the toast of every segment of his society. He had learned a new rhythm with which to perform his act.