My partner had a long weekend away from work, and with a new schedule change will have many weekends off in months to come. I can say this is a nice change, but I can’t say I would’ve complained otherwise. One of the many positive perks about frequent schedule changes in our home is how they invite me to sift right through the unchangeable things of the day and be with them rather than put up my mental dukes to fight them away. I seemed to have a weekend full of these kinds of moments and think I did pretty well, considering my northern European ancestry. Everyone knows how much we like to hang the Serenity Prayer on our walls because we all know it’s true. And when we start to feel how true it is, that’s even better.
My Qi Gong and meditation class was canceled on Friday and I was looking forward to that time. So I went home and we lathered up with a new assortment of sun screens to paddle around in kayaks in the Bay of Cadiz. I packed a little cooler, dropped in two Fanta Limons for Carlos and a Pink Lady apple for me and considered us prepared. I was geared up for feeling something in my body besides sitting, jogging, yoga-ing, and curling around Carlos on the couch. As heavy thinkers all must know, body sensations are one of the best ways of leaving our heads out of an en vivo experience. But after waffling around the area and encountering the solitary kayak stand replete with padlocks and an obvious lack of personnel, we easily succumbed to returning another day.
The day before, when I had had a hankering for chocolate chip cookies and then ate them for dinner, I realized the result didn’t feel wonderful but the moment had already passed. I enjoyed the anticipation of kayaking, as well as I enjoyed baking and eating the cookies. So you see, there is really no reason for any mental mish-mash about why something I couldn’t control had occurred. I had already eaten the cookies for dinner, and the Bay of Cadiz had already determined their kayak schedule. We spent the rest of the day delighting over new groceries and watching Mary Louise-Parker flaunt her glimmering skin at us through re-runs of Weeds.
Today I sank into the couch, noticed the word “Freedom” flung about the internet for the American holiday, watched more re-runs, took a picture of our homegrown basil, and flitted about house noticing chores that might have been completed. At one point, I asked my partner if I was bad. He joked back, reminding me that I’m worthless unless I’m cleaning or producing something. So I kept on going with it; this feeling of sloth-ing around and commenting on my soft addiction to Showtime was actually a nice way to spend a Sunday.
For a slightly different appraisal of this same experience, you can read about the spider below.
She crochets a web outside
my kitchen window. A busty
head pumping, her wispy lines
making more than a home. The
wind whips in an uneven jog to
her corner and I watch her legs –
how they calibrate so quiet and easy
to that air. I feel my hands sitting
white and still and remember other
times, when an impulse called for
action. I seized a broom, stabbed
the web. Wiped a grayness away.
It was so important to keep
a surface polished. But now
something stops me between
the movements. Like the legs
of all those spiders spun a circle
and sat down at once inside of me.
Oh, the tasks I leave undone
just to hear their tiny knees bending.