The Rhythm of Adjustment
The phrase had begun with driving,a quiet mantra against my own impulsivity. my early therapist labeled me “precipitous,” and the description stuck. it manifested in small, frustrating ways – hitting “send” before proofreading, blindly following GPS directions into obvious errors. It was a pattern of action preceding thought, and one I constantly battled. That’s where “Flex and Innovate” came in.
We’d adopted it about six years ago, shortly after relocating to be closer to family. The move brought a stunning complexity,a multiplying of schedules and needs. Life,already full,overflowed. Plans inevitably shifted, timing faltered, and misunderstandings arose, not from malice, but simply from the friction of many lives intersecting. We realized a rigid adherence to expectation was a recipe for constant frustration. Instead, we needed a way to navigate the unavoidable disruptions with grace.
“Flex and Innovate” became our touchstone, built on the foundational belief that everyone involved was acting with good intentions. It wasn’t about abandoning goals,but about acknowledging the reality of change and adapting accordingly. It was a quiet revolution against my own ingrained tendency to rush.
The evening of the chorus’s dress rehearsal with the symphony offered a small, but perfect, illustration. Navigating to the unfamiliar college campus in the dark, I misread the street signs, directing Will onto College Street Extension instead of College street itself. The “Extension” was there, in smaller print, but overlooked in the dim light. we briefly celebrated Will’s apparent parking prowess, snagging a spot on the short extension, a small victory fueled by smug satisfaction.
That satisfaction quickly dissolved as building after building proved to be not the chapel we sought. The wind bit at our ears, and the 7:30 call time loomed. Yet, surprisingly, neither of us voiced complaint. A flicker of annoyance crossed my mind regarding the illusory parking space, but I consciously let it pass. I wondered if Will was silently criticizing himself, but hoped he wasn’t.
Ironically, we arrived at rehearsal on time. Three hours later, energized by the music, we emerged into the cold night and joined the throng heading for the large public parking lot across from the chapel. We deliberately bypassed it.
“Live and learn,” I murmured, a sentiment that felt particularly resonant as we began the long walk back to where we’d parked. The cold didn’t seem to matter as we talked – about the soaring melodies,the conductor’s insightful direction,the ancient context of the piece,and the passages that had moved us most.
we reached the storefronts and found the car on College Street Extension. As we buckled in, I offered a cheerful, “Flex and Innovate!” Will smiled, reaching for my hand. He held it for a moment, a quiet connection, before responding, “Flex and Innovate.”
It wasn’t just a phrase anymore. It was a rhythm, a shared understanding, a gentle reminder to breathe, adjust, and find the goodness even in the midst of unexpected turns. It was a way to navigate not just traffic and directions, but life itself, with a little more patience and a lot more grace.
