Sometimes my electric kettle won't turn off, and the steam pours out, coating my kitchen in layers of moisture. Sometimes the valve on my toilet warps and the water keeps feeling up until I come and fix it. Things break, but they can always be fixed if you stay attentive.
Other times, there is so much information pouring into my brain and I can't stop it. I'm pulled in so many different directions and seem to always need to be somewhere other than in my own space. Thankfully, my friends keep reminding me to breathe.
There are also the mornings when a good cup of tea sorts the mind to the point where some of it begins to make sense. One good deep breath and the slight push of a handle, and life begins anew, as it does every moment. We're a string of frames being put through the projector one shot after another.
On this rainy November morning, my mind is awash with thoughts of this whirlwind Halloween week, and with thoughts of how to prepare for the end of the year. I keep adding new things to my plate, new obstacles to spin on the ends of broomsticks, and so far I've not crashed with a cacophonic tinkle. I'm now longer going to worry about that moment coming. Instead, I'm going to run down this hill as fast as I can, remembering to breathe. If I stumble, I shall roll until I can bounce back up to continue this marathon we're all running in.
Sam's mother taught him a very useful trick that seems to work out pretty well. Sometimes he gets so frustrated that he can't have whatever he wants, and he doesn't have the language to express himself. So, when he gets into that state of total panic, all you have to say to him is:
"Sam, say help."
And, he does. He immediately stops crying, calms down, and says in his precious little voice, "Help!" and then we're calm, we cuddle, and we get on with our day.