One Tangle at a Time

I had a dear cat named Minino (pronounced me-knee-no).  He was a long-haired cat, and while I did a good job of grooming him in the early years, as my life got crazier, I turned a blind eye.  Over the years, his matted tangles took on a life of their own, to the point that I became too overwhelmed and even ashamed of his condition to even know where to start.  I am embarrassed to say that he perhaps could have set a Guinness World Record as the world's tangliest cat.  He had a solid, matted hump on his back the size of a kitten (or small monkey) and a second tail, among other unnatural matted formations.

One day about six months ago, I decided to start one tangle at a time.  I made a goal to cut at least one tangle off that cat each day.  Minino was not, at first, a willing participant in this experiment.  He would hide from me, hiss at me, and even try to bite me when I came close to him with the scissors.  I found myself spending more time with him each day, scratching his head, breaking down his fears and defenses, building his trust.  As my little experiment progressed, he still had his reservations, but the process got easier.  I think he himself could feel the transformation as the tangles came off, one by one.  And the transformation was deeper than his appearance.  He became a younger, more playful, more joyful version of himself.

There's nothing profoundly genius about breaking a daunting task into bite size pieces, but--for me--the effect was liberating, and I began to find myself applying the technique to all aspects of my life.

Messy, cluttered house?  Mop the kitchen floor and call it good until tomorrow.  Home decor that hasn't been updated in a decade?  Move a painting from one room to another and give myself a pat on the back.  Daughter who complains heartily about a big homework assignment?  Help her figure out how much she needs to do each day to finish by the due date and then do the minimum for the day.  Too much junk in my diet?  Instead of a major overhaul, add one fruit and vegetable to each meal.

I do have to admit that not all of my life de-tangling experiments have worked.  For example, one of my tangles is a lack of "stillness" in my life.  I made a goal to sit completely still and try not to think about anything for 5 minutes each day.  Not too ambitious.  But I failed horribly.  I found myself up at midnight, trying to steal some "still" time.  And while I was sitting there, my multi-tasking brain was jumping around, out of control.  The experiment was off within a week.  That likely means I didn't try nearly hard enough.  Like Minino, the most essential cutting may cause the one with the tangles to hiss and hide and even bite.    That only means you're on to something important.

What tangles are you dealing with?  Try cutting them off one tangle at a time, and you might be surprised!

P.S.  It was painful to use the past-tense to say that I "had" a cat named Minino.  Sadly, Minino died very quickly and unexpectedly a few days before Thanksgiving.  I found him not "quite right" one morning before leaving to pick my parents up at the airport for a visit.  I had a sick feeling about it, and when I arrived back at my house with my parents, he was dead.  I am still in a bit of shock even as I write this over a month later.

I can't help but continue the analogy.  Even when we break a problem down into manageable bites, we still sometimes don't get the chance to feel quite finished with the project.  I am, though, so grateful that I was inspired (or something) to reconnect with and nuture Minino while I still had him with me.  Perhaps there is a lesson in that too.  A week ago today, my 84 year old grandpa -- who was strong and independent and kind and amazing -- died unexpectedly of heart failure.  I don't deal well with death--whether pets or people.  This loss, leaves me with so many regrets about visits not taken and letters not written and phone calls not made.  Tangles untended.