Hey Pat, I Got It Down
We've all heard the phrase, "I've got it down pat."
I wanted to research that a little bit, but before I even jumped on a computer—before I let someone else tell me what it meant—I wanted to drop some notes on what I thought it meant.
I think the first time I came across that statement was when I was seriously involved in playing the drums.
I had the most amazing drum teacher. I didn't even realize at the time just how amazing he was. I knew he was good, but he taught me things that I never could have learned anywhere else.
I remember he would give me these complex exercises. We called them rudiments, and we'd string them together into all sorts of patterns. It was all about developing better muscle technique and better mind-body connection.
I guess, even back then, I was doing yoga.
I would practice all week. I was one of those very committed practitioners. I wanted to see and feel the results of my practice. I remember practicing one bass drum technique until the toes of my feet bled.
Remember that lyric, "Played it till my fingers bled"?
I felt like I was a really good drummer that day.
But anyway... back to "I've got it down pat."
I remember having this very complex pattern that I had to learn.
When I came back from my lesson the following week, I proudly told my drum teacher, "I've got the pattern down."
He smiled and said, "Yep... you've got it down pat."
I took "pat" to be an abbreviation for "pattern."
Whoa.
Now we carry that forward all these decades later, and we're looking at how our life works and how yoga encourages us to identify the patterns in our lives—those that are noble and repeatable, and those that are perhaps less so.
I realized I have spent the large majority of my life finding and trying to understand patterns.
Patterns in computers.
Patterns in traffic.
Patterns in my body.
Patterns in people.
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I started thinking about all the things in life that I supposedly have down pat.
When I started making a list, boy, I felt pretty good about myself.
I started my list that day of the things I have down pat.
I can make a killer bowl of oatmeal.
...
And that completes my list today!
I couldn't think of anything else.
Because even in that drum pattern that I had learned so well, there were nuances. There were different volumes you could play. You could move it around the drum set. There were an unending number of permutations within that one pattern.
So when my list of things I truly had down pat fell foolishly short, I initially thought,
"Well... shit, dude. You're almost sixty and you don't know shit."
And then another thought appeared.
"Shit, dude... you're almost sixty... and look how much there still is left to learn."
That little shift changed my brain.
It changed my day.
It changed my outlook.
It changed my state of mind.
I no longer felt like I had to maintain some sort of formula or recipe for living life.
Instead, I could take everything I'd learned up to this point and simply ask,
"Now what?"
What does this bowl of oatmeal need today?
Should it be a little more liquid? More soupy?
Or do I want it nice and hearty?
Do I want the class I teach today to ground people?
Or elevate them?
Do I want my next interaction with my wife to simply be calm and at ease?
Or can we upset the apple cart a little and discover what else is waiting to be learned?
What else is waiting to be revealed?
I love being almost sixty years old and barely knowing anything.
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And Sarah...?
Every now and then I'll announce to her,
"I think I've finally got you figured out."
She doesn't even have to respond.
She just waits.
Inevitably, within about twelve hours, she'll do or say something that completely dismantles my little theory.
The funny part isn't that Sarah keeps changing.
The funny part is that I keep expecting her not to.
She is always a pleasant surprise to me.
Maybe people aren't patterns to solve.
Maybe they are stories that continually unfold.
Remember the oatmeal.
Maybe today I need a little more heartiness.
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I chuckle because every time I try to fill the dishwasher, if my wife is around, she'll come right behind me and move everything around.
She's got that down pat.
I love that about her.
I love that there are certain things we really can do almost automatically, without thinking. They simply happen.
I mean... who really needs to stay curious about loading a dishwasher?
Although...
There might even be a meditation hiding in there.
Whenever it's time to load the dishwasher, I usually just say,
"I don't know how."
She gives me a playful kick in the butt, I load the dishwasher, and then she reloads it.
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From the day my drum teacher smiled and said,
"You've got it down pat,"
I thought I was learning patterns.
Maybe what I was really practicing...
...was curiosity.
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ROAR with Love,
Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
