Last night we were looking for a Shakespeare sonnet at dinner, so I pulled down The Globe Illustrated Shakespeare: The Complete Works, Annotated from the shelf and opened it to discover this inscription
“To my darling Deedee, Xmas ’87. The greatest author in the English language! From the greatest Dad.”
I’m Deedee, my dad has been dead for a decade now, and this still makes me laugh out loud. He’s captured perfectly.
I very much enjoyed today’s Winter Photography Class at Matthaei. It was taught by Mark O’Brien. We had a little bit of instruction and then all went out and wandered together in the winter woods, playing with exposure, watching our batteries drain exceptionally fast, shivering a bit, and having fun. At the end of the day, it was 11° F, -12° C. Mark has some nice photos from the event on his Flickr, including this one which has me in it so it is my favorite.
This past week my husband was overseas on business. He’s back now, I’m grateful for his safe return and the chocolate he brought, of course, but I’m also grateful for the time apart.
A Sailor’s Suitcase, originally uploaded by Bob AuBuchon.
I am grateful for the little pleasures of having the house to myself: sleeping diagonally across in the bed, using his pillow/invading his space, having the cat all to myself, for my clock dictating my schedule. I’m grateful for takeout food: Jerusalem Garden, Eastern Flame, Zingerman’s Roadhouse, Washtenaw Dairy.
I’m grateful for modern technology that means I can get his cell phone in Europe by dialing a local number. I’m grateful for the time difference: when I was upset and couldn’t sleep and it was 2AM and there was no one here to talk to, I was able to reach him in his morning in Europe. Not for long, but for a moment, and it was good.
I’m grateful because absence makes the heart grow fonder. We get enough time apart to miss each other a little bit, and it breaks our routine just enough we take each other a bit less for granted.
Folks at my office teased me that the “honeymoon must be over” since I didn’t rush home to greet him the moment his flight landed. He has always traveled for work, now less so than previously, but a week apart is normal enough for us. In fact, we both kind of like the first few days. It’s hard to explain, but for the two of us, that little distance is entirely required to maintain our equilibrium between independent and partnered, the rhythm of cyclic downtime and togetherness.
So, last week I hit the wall. After standup on Thursday, I paced around the office, feeling my face get red, feeling angry, frustrated, and near tears. I didn’t want anyone to notice this, so I grabbed my coat and stormed around the streets of downtown Ann Arbor until the cold air, the exercise, and the distance braced me enough I could face my colleagues.
While I was stomping around, I wondered what the heck had killed my composure. Sure there was stuff going on, but there’s always stuff going on. I was cranky at standup, and feeling slightly embarrassed for having been snappy, and mostly feeling overwhelmed. The only answer I could come up with was to buckle down and get stuff done. So, I worked hard that day, late in part to make up for my 1/2 hour stomp around town, but also to complete the set of “urgent” tasks. I had lots scheduled for Friday, and I squeezed in a breakfast meeting with a former colleague, knowing I was pushing it, but trying anyway. Friday was more fun than Thursday, but then on Saturday I was a complete dial tone.
After a pretty relaxing weekend, I woke up today (Monday) actually sick, as opposed to wrung out, headachey, and cranky. Now I think I have an idea of why I was so brittle last week, just didn’t have the energy to maintain my equilibrium. Of course, there’s the alternate explanation, that my emotional state invited in the illness. I’m thinking that since I had to work to figure out why I was so mad, that it is the former. But who knows.
So, trying to learn something from this:
This week, I’m grateful for the little things.
A new acquaintance at my meditation center handed me this rudraksha bead. Anu divided up a necklace that had been her grandmother’s, and she gave individual beads to members of a group of 20s-30s folks who meet in a sadhana circle once a month. She opened her purse to pull out a bag holding a set of beads, and this one fell out and rolled across the floor towards where I was sitting. It feels good around my neck.
A rudraksha bead is the seed from a plant that grows in the Himalayan foothills. By legend, the tree sprung up from the tears of Shiva, shed in compassion for the welfare of all. The seeds bring material and spiritual well-being. Rudraksha beads are typically used as prayer beads, in japa malas used in the repetition of a mantra.
I’ll wear this rudraksha pendant to remind me of my intention to be grateful. What better to remind me than an unexpected gift.