I remember walking to school in second grade, narrating my life in my head. I did that during those years. Every day a chapter in my story. Sometimes I even caught myself about to add “she said” after I spoke to someone.
One morning on the way to the busy street’s crosswalk where patrol boys stood holding yellow flags, I narrated to myself, “She walked quickly and efficiently.” I’d found those words in a recently-read book, maybe in Lassie, Come Home or in Lampo, the Traveling Dog. Anyway, I liked them. I was quickly moving my saddle-shoed feet. I guessed to be efficient was like being quick, though I wasn’t sure. The phrase just sounded neato.
Years passed, and though I recalled the phrase often, I did not become either quick or efficient. By the time my daughter pranced, sock-footed, over hardwood floors to our table for her second grade lessons, I was facing the reality of my pace in life: slow. Sometimes very inefficient, too, according to standard life benchmarks. Yet I would see, or think I saw, again and again, things moving forward despite my meanderly ways.
Maybe the high pain tolerance doctors have told me I have translates also into patience. Maybe not. My shoulders ache, my chest tightens in middle-of-night memory probings and regretting of actions and inactions. Missteps – ah, I wish to do them over same as anyone. Waiting to see reasons can feel pretty fruitless.
Perhaps, though, it’s an individual, interpretive dance I’m seeing in myself, rather than a failure to keep step with flashy Flamenco types I can so admire.
In any case, last week I spent two nights and most of three days all by my lonesome, and I have to confess, I enjoyed every moment as it wended its way forward. At 1:30 a.m. Friday I awoke and got up to write until 5:00. Heaven. Then, after a snooze, I sent out my weekly submissions. I remembered, as I wandered through my home, why I harbor every minute alone these days. I’m sorry if it seems miserly, and I’m grateful to those two patient people who understand, who came home to me after their own adventure “out there.” Those times to think about things, to be thoroughly inefficient, are just so essential.
But thanks to my son’s clear-headed planning before the trip I stayed home from, my camera went along and performed its job well. May you be inspired by the meandering Oregon coastline and riverway he captured.
Love it! Of course: I am an inefficient meanderer too (as you know). I struggle with feeling bad about it; but at heart, I know that as well as the efficient folks who cure cancer and stuff, it takes people who have the time and talent to do nothing to keep us human too.
There’s a Zen quote something like:
Industrious people build industry; nonindustrious people build civilization.
OK, I looked it up (so industrious of me!):
“To be thoroughly lazy is a tough job, but somebody has to do it. Industrious people build industry. Lazy people build civilization.”
Kazuaki Tanahashi, “Brush Mind,” Parallax Press, 1990
Great, Fresca! I noticed something similar on your blog yesterday, as I was working on this post, but I didn’t get back to comment. “Lazy” people, I think, are those perceived to be less industrious than others. It’s true, and yet there’s a different process at work in us, perhaps? Anyway, I’ll definitely keep that quote around. Thanks for taking time to find its proper reference. :o)
These words of yours settled me Deanna. I’ve been dragging and staring out windows and self-talking. The house is a shambles and I’ll pay for it as always. But perhaps it will gift in it’s own way . My friends envy a recent weekend away with hubby, but I’m still secretly hoping for a solo retreat. To walk and gaze and begin writing down the words.
Ah, Deb, I hear you. Hope it happens.
Alone time is precious for me, too. I sometimes ask myself, when I’m not alone, what I’d do right at that moment if I were. And then – sometimes – I do it anyway. If I can. But usually I can’t. It’s the shedding of responsibility for everyone else, the freedom to pick and choose for just me. I wouldn’t want it all the time but when I do get it, I’m better for all of us. So, all this to say, I totally understand. And wasn’t it great to see the men again once they returned! I always appreciate my peeps more after I’ve missed them a little.
Say, is Victoria not living with you guys anymore?
“I wouldn’t want it all the time but when I do get it, I’m better for all of us.” Sums it up well, Cherie. Yes, I loved having the guys return. And Victoria moved back to her college area stomping grounds in June. She’s working again at Hirons, too. :o)