I can shut out traffic but I have to open up to all the other noises and sights. So I fling open the windows and pay attention.
I had to tear myself away from modern, western humanity again…The media, social media, judgements, the assumptions; the doctrines people spout about the way to be a good human, a good person, a good member of society. Life is so very short and I’m sure we’re living it so very wrong right now and teaching our children to live it the wrong way too. All this crazy talk about hard work and who deserves what and who doesn’t.
I have to remind myself daily that I’m a good person, a nice person – even if I’m not living or behaving in the ways we’ve currently become fixed. I have to remind myself daily of what I can do, should do and need to do on my own terms. Not because I “deserve” it or “because I’m worth it” but because it’s worth it. But it doesn’t stop me going crazy with worry watching the way others think the world works, and questioning again and again Why?
So here I am shutting out what hurts my heart and my sense of self and a meaningful life and what I can’t control, and instead opening up to what I don’t need to control, what I don’t want to control.
I look out in order to step out of my anxiety. Windows are my saviour.
The breeze whips damp air up from a ground still gentle from the months of sun. A soft day today, I think.
The white cat on the brow of the slope hunts again. I often wonder about the successes of something so visible, so bright. I amuse myself by imagining him going home empty-handed again and shrugging apologetically at his family.
Pigeons and doves sit and rumble rhythmically together on the long slow slope of the neighbour’s garage roof while in the distance the seagulls’ circular throat warbles fade and return. Nearby a robin pips loudly – probably busy dragging grubs from the soft wet earth.
I decide what to focus on and what to ignore. The traffic comes and goes out of sight. It has nothing to do with me. So many other bird songs. I don’t know what they are. I wish I did. Why not make the time, take the time to learn them? But who does that these days?
Who cares about things that don’t pay?
Despite my determination all the time pressing at me from behind is artificial time passing and waving its expectations at me. I walk away from the window and try to decide what I should do next.
Autonomy is quite an achievement. Real autonomy, I mean… Does it even exist?
I notice while writing this on an app that I cannot see the time. Momentarily I panic about productivity, expectation and routine. What is the time? How much of it have I wasted?
Yoga would help. But do I have time? Is it necessary? Is it worth it?
I should… I ought to… I have to… It’s time I was… I need to… Where do living, existing, working, earning fit into “worthwhile”? Why do we give money so much credence? How did we let it get to this impossible life of choices based on earnings and worth based on work? Why should we earn rights when others are born with them? Why are we so very stuck in structures that make us ill?
Another breath of autumn air, I think.
There’s no time for yoga now