On one hand, I have learned to patiently abide, for change comes slower every year. But then again each day’s a gem to me, and I don’t want to spend one passively. I aim to plumb the puzzle till it’s clear, by clue amazing, talisman or spear, the way to balance temporality.
From when I wake at dawn till 2 p.m., I’m busy, active, driven to result. I have at least 10 items, tackle them, and usually 3 specials. Difficult it isn’t, habit-formed as an adult (Mom called me selfish/lazy till I grew). I’m proud-productive, over that insult, but good for nearly nothing after 2.
It isn’t that I worry actively about my kids – they grew up long ago. But as I survey life, the quality of their experience – their jobs and health, their moods, their challenges with family – is part of what I reckon every day. This week, one has her best friend’s company. The other’s group-vacationing, and so consideration takes a break in me.
I read the Bible years ago, in full. Although it bored me some, it also made a deep impression. Not religious pull, but glimpses at the humor we’ve downplayed. Creation’s motive also crept on me – conversion into matter was in there. I took away the clue our legacy is obligation to be self-aware.
That’s partly why I hone my memory, take notes and pictures, tell my stories too. I walk, and try to focus steadily. Perhaps should I begin to lose a slew of recollections, I can notice it, self-governing while facing loss of wit.
The practice wasn’t hard and didn’t take much time away from other morning moves. And nearly every pose she had me make produced a sense of wellness. It improves my balance and my attitude to wake to lengthening; my spine the act behooves. Infirm or frail I’d feel a sorry wretch. I’ll not forsake my customary stretch.
A tide of challah-making has beset the families I foisted on the world. Inspired by late hate, one kid has let her mind expand her heritage, and hurled herself full-tilt. A month ago I made the first, on Friday kneading, punching down. She joined for shape and bake and in the shade of setting sun, her offspring gathered round.
Since then it’s been a weekly treat for those, and now the younger local nest bakes, too. They’re into lower carb, but still they chose to help assemble and enjoy the chew. The work was great, and what I savored most was next-night’s avocado challah toast.
An idiot savant is somewhat wise. A child can perceive what many won’t. A moron might be hired to advise. It’s more a case of wherefore than of don’t. Cognition comes in any type of form. Insanity is rarely absolute. And as for nailing down a useful norm, the field’s too mobbed – no vision’s that acute.
My father had in his declining years occasional hallucinating views that offered a perspective which appears both then and after kindness. Don’t accuse divergence, or discard its value now. Perhaps it holds the recipe for how.
Concluding I had too much on my plate, on rising I eliminated some. The temperature was up, I had a date for lunch, and I was feeling kind of numb. But 90 minutes later, so much freight had been cleared off I couldn’t feel a crumb. Surprised, I gravitated to the mat, in movement like a morning acrobat.
I bought my cottage 18 years ago. I fancied its seclusion and the site – it nestles in a corner and there grow out front varieties of green delight. There’s peace and quiet here till recently. The boundaries by which my place is tucked now sport construction close as it can be. The future of my quiet may be fucked.
But I don’t advocate no ADUs, and I’ve lost hearing in the upper range. Perhaps as I mature it won’t abuse serenity to acclimate to change. So far the look and sound of new’s okay. Adjustment may be in my aging sway.