Pixie: Regarding how long it takes to learn life lessons. I would add that learning them properly is another aspect of learning. The lesson seems to change as I think I’m practising what I think I know, and discover I wasn’t really “getting it.” It keeps me humble, knowing I don’t know the half of what I think I know.
As I sat reading in the armchair this morning after Scott woke me at 8:30, wondering if I was “only sleeping,” because we were in bed before 10 last night and although we both looked at our phones for a few minutes (he finding music, me finding a radio program), the light was soon out. That is two days in a row I’ve slept 10 hours or more and that seems like too much, to me. But I felt good this morning, whereas yesterday ye olde necke was bitchy and by the end of the day I had to medicate.
Sitting there snuggled up under a blanket, I thought, “I should take the whole day OFF to just read. Nothing else. A real retreat. A serious rest.” It felt like a luxury to even have such a thought.
I won’t, of course. Our sheets need to be washed and they are king-sized, which means they don’t spin-dry enough to be put into the dryer if I put them both into the washer at once. Which means — oh dullest detail, wilt thou ever be gone? — about six trips up and down the basement stairs before they can be put back on the bed. But maybe that’s all I’ll do, besides go to town to drive Emil home from Everett’s place in the afternoon.
I’ll take a loaf of bread to leave with Everett; I made six yesterday and my boys always like it toasted.
As I read, interrupted repeatedly by someone sharing what he was being entertained by, I thought about the instruction “Don’t mind what happens” (a way of understanding that what’s happening in any given moment has already happened, instead of wanting it to be different; in other words, resisting it even though there’s sweet-tweet-all that will change what has already happened by the time my brain realizes it) and grasped that while I think that’s what I’m doing, I’m often just “putting up with,” as graciously as I can, something I DO mind. That’s not the same as “not minding.”
I was reminded as the morning wore on that “The best way past is through” and it’s not new knowledge to me either, but I haven’t been doing it. No. When I don’t like a situation or want to be in it, I try to avoid it. I determined to try to remember to go “through” these things in future. This will be easier said than done, as some situations truly upset me even when I wish they wouldn’t, that I was more detached, less bothered by bullshit. Some situations take serious time to “get through” – that’s a lot of discomfort.
I didn’t much want to go for a walk this afternoon. It’s cold out there, and warm in here. But I went, taking my phone and earbuds and CBC Listen app with me. Last week I only clocked four miles; at that rate, I won’t have those silk pyjamas by summertime.
I heard an interview with author Lauren B. Davis.
It tied in somewhat with the experience of uncomfortable and even painful situations, so I’ve added the book to my library order, which now numbers 39.
Meanwhile I’m reading The Guncle, recommended by my friend Pamela, a pen-pal with whom I connected near the beginning of the pandemic; and The Dancing Wu Li Masters, which I may have read before but weren’t we just saying it takes a lot of repetition to remember what we’ve learned and put it into practice? It seems to be the case with me anyway.
I will have to do dishes. Even a retreat day requires the washing, drying, and putting-away of dishes; we do have to eat, after all. Neither of us are into fasting, even for half a day. On my way in from the walk I detoured into the Quonset to get some bananas and zucchini from the deep freeze. They will thaw overnight and the baking of muffins and another chocolate cake can wait till tomorrow. Today I’m taking it easy.