Well hello there.
Feels like it’s been a while. Oh, luckily, my posts show up. I haven’t stopped blogging, nor do I intend to. But in all honesty I’ve been quite fragmented lately.
Do you know the feeling? The state where someone tells you they disagree with a statement you apparently made, and you don’t even remember the conversation? Much less if you believe what you ostensibly said?
Like that. Fragmented.
Modern life takes us so far from the Zen ideal of mindfulness. Sometimes I’m all out of mind, but the world, my body, and my voice don’t seem to notice. I keep going, as one does. We live like credits to a sitcom where a cartoon figure of the heroine leaps from vignette to vignette, trailing sparkle dust, events fading in and out in 3-second increments. That ping, ping, ping of the soundtrack.
In this moment, I believe I am fully here.
Hello there. I will take the blinking of the cursor as a stand-in for your nods. I’ll sigh, audibly. I’ll look at the veins on the back of my hands, and hear the birds through my open back door.
My son’s graduation took an enormous amount of focus and attention. So many factors at play, so many different planes of behavior and feeling and input to manage. I believe I’m only now re-grouping.
I’ve read a lot lately about will power, how it’s not a virtue but a physical capacity. Kind of like adrenaline, we can use it up. And when the will is depleted, we’re left gesturing at those things we ought to grasp.
Gestures are pretend actions. Unrealized but initiated intents. If you start, finish. This is my mantra for the week to come.
I want you to know how much I appreciate every single person reading out there. We all have our lives. You may be Republican or Democrat, religious or not, live in New York or Texas or Montana or Glasgow. Or Canada or Brisbane. I hope you won’t mind if I take courage from you. Take inspiration in remembering that you’re all out there doing what needs done, and I should do the same. Sometimes we have to collect ourselves before we can push on. Too much unconsidered forward causes us to shed tiles like a rocket ship on a Florida morning.
None of this is an emergency, or even a complaint. More like a lesson spoken to myself. It’s the weekend. I plan to go nowhere, to eat eggs and frozen peas, those foodstuffs that endure to surface in times of need. I am collecting myself, and finding some fragments out there on your front steps.
Have a wonderful day. Tomorrow too. And after that, as we return to work. I plan to focus. Today I focus on the sprouting weeds in my gravel paths and recorded television episodes. Have you seen Girls? Mothers of 20-year olds must. Tomorrow, I’ll focus on tomorrow. And Monday, on doing a good job. Picking up pieces to bring them with me forward.