Not my first rodeo.

My middle son is learning to drive. 

 I took him out on the main roads for the first time last weekend.

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

This is not my first ROAD! EEEE. OHHHHHH!

I used to go out with his older brother, when he was learning.

It was a favourite time of motherhood, witnessing my first son become a young man as he navigated the twists and turns of the road, whilst I sporadically stamped my foot on the ground, forgetting that there was no brake on my side of the car. 

Such a great analogy for navigating the teenage years in general, don’t you think?

On Sunday, my middle son and I decided our first trip would be up a dual carriageway to his friends house, so that he could pick up his phone charger that he had left there. 

We’re a ‘Go Hard or Go Home’ kind of family I guess.

As we sat in the driveway,  I was impressed by his pre-drive checks; lining his thumb up to various mirrors to ensure that he had everything just so. 

Checks complete, off we set. 

By the first junction he had asked me to stop saying ‘Good job’ and could we just put on the radio?

Fair enough, I’m not sure if I was saying those reassuring words for him, or for me, anyway.

First roundabout, he navigated with confidence; a mere miss of an indication, no problem.

Second roundabout, his thinking got in the way, he doubted himself, stalled just as he was about to pull onto the roundabout. 

We’ve all been there. 

He kept his cool. ‘Mum, I have my learner plates on, people know that I am going to make mistakes, it’s ok.’

Third roundabout, he drifted slightly into the other lane, but once he was aware of it aptly corrected himself. 

The following roundabout involved an overcorrection of the aforementioned hesitation and we nearly became very intimate with a motorcyclist. The motorcyclist reined in his gesticulations as I gave a wave of appreciation.

We arrived with a long exhale.

Phone charger back in possession, we prepared ourselves for the return trip.

‘Can you drive back mum? I just want to have a pause to reflect on that last drive, it was quite a lot.’

So I drove home, deftly illustrating many driving habits that he should never pick up.

Makes ya think, don’t it?

• How often may we leap into spaces to offer support when someone actually needs space to process?

• When we are starting something new, does our self doubt get in the way of what we are actually capable of? 

• If there are structures in place to enable us to be upfront about our inexperience, doesn’t that help us meet that inexperience with acceptance which is the antidote to frustration?

• Aren’t we so much safer when we recognise when we are driving into other people’s lanes?

• Our thinking can take us off track, despite our capability, simply because we haven’t had the gift of experience. 

But most of all, the gift of that pause. We are so often encouraged to drive and push and achieve, but pausing is such a vital part of assimilating our learning, our being.

Life is good in the pause.

When I lose my own enchantment 

With pursuing life enhancement,

Life is good in the pause.

To demands of ‘get that pic’

Or ‘here’s another box to tick’

I’m returned to:

Life is good in the pause.

When we pause, we give ourselves the chance to have a beginner’s mind:

“The mind of the beginner is free of the habits of the expert, ready to accept, to doubt, and open to all the possibilities.” Shunryu Suzuki

So I’d like to offer up some ‘pause and notice’ exercises to counterbalance the frenetic pace of the last few weeks of this year, based upon my experience with my son: