Laundry List

It's 9:45PM and I'm folding laundry, trying not to grit my teeth against the job.  A few more mindless tasks are waiting to be done before I can tuck myself in for the night:  The dog needs to go out, my teeth need brushing, and a few bills need to be paid. So I sort the mail, let the dog back in, and stand in front of the sink wondering if I can risk skipping the floss tonight. 

Mundane tasks and everyday chores stand in our way every day.  Every hour, even.  And we can't skip flossing every night! So how to get over that feeling of excruciating boredom when faced with a mountain of socks to match?  What can we do to feel, not joy, but at least acceptance, when we pull out the skillet to make dinner AGAIN?

Wish I had an answer for you, but I don't.  I have an idea to try out, though:  All day tomorrow, I will use those moments of dullness to meditate.  I won't sit cross-legged with my thumb and index finger forming a circle, and I won't even close my eyes.  I will breathe deeply and allow my mind to be quiet for those few minutes.  I will pay attention to the smell of the parsley I chop, and the sound of the onions falling in to the hot oil.  I will look closely at the beautiful tree in my backyard as I wait for the dog to finish up, and I will marvel at its magnificence (too much? Okay, maybe I'll lean against its majestic trunk.  It's a really nice tree!) The point being that if I need to concentrate on a task, I will do so mindfully; if the job is mindless, I will give my mind a real break, and not waste the time with my inner complaints.  I'll let you know how it works out.

Citified Yoga

Solstice in Times Square is a yoga celebration of the longest day of the year.  Thousands gathered throughout the day to practice together in the heart of Manhattan, to share their energies and heart-light and, for some, to show off their perfect yoga poses.  I couldn’t help but notice a few things, and gather some lessons in the process.  For those of you who won’t start a yoga practice because you are too stiff/chubby/tall/old/weak/whatever, you should attend an event like this, where there are so many different body types that no one can feel like they don’t belong.  Grab a mat and get going.  The other lesson I need to take to heart is this:  Two yoga teachers decided one day to present yoga in Times Square, and that first year, there were only five people attending.  And that included the teachers!  Each year the event grew, and now they sadly turn people away for lack of space!  So – a slow start is still a start!  My last thought was this:  What??!! The days are going to start getting shorter already?!  Heck, school is barely out!

Inhale. Exhale.  Enjoy.

Fifty-Something?

You may know that last summer I turned 50 years old.  I know!  I don't look a day over 49.  I credit all those yoga inversions.  Anyway, I rather enjoyed being 50.  It feels comfortable to say, "oh, I'm 50.  Yes, yes, I know I don't look a day over 49, but it's true. I'm 50."  Fifty seems mature in a wise way, while not yet long in the tooth.  I can still wear skirts above my knee, although just, and heck, if I can do a headstand in the middle of the room at 50 then, dammit, I can wear my hair down past my shoulders (if only it would grow faster). 

And now, as my next birthday creeps up on me, I've made a decision.  I am going to stay 50 for a few more years.  Apologies to my sisters, who will become first my same age, then older than me; but no need for them to worry, because around 53 or 54, I'll pop back to my rightful age.  For now, I claim the right to do some things just for me, and one of them is to remain at this number of years for as long as I want.  So on July 8 of this year, when you say Happy Birthday to me and I just smile serenely in response, you'll know that, while I do celebrate my day of birth, I'm not too concerned about the years.

I'll let you know when this conceit ends!

The Mystery of the Swallowtail

Last time I was here the water was higher; it was early spring, and now it is early summer.  Up along the banks there are leaves and twigs and even rocks to show how high the water got during spring thaw. I am in the Catskills at a creek near my sister's cabin. Across the creek the land is state-owned, so it is rare to come across any other people down here. Carolle tells the story that one day she and her daughter were sitting on a rock in the middle of the creek, reading, at a time the water ran particularly high, and suddenly two kayakers swished past, each pair surprising the other. But today it is peaceful and quiet.  Except when we do some yodeling to make sure the bears know we are here.

I step out of the water to walk along the banks for a bit.  The water is icy cold and my feet need a break.  Turning to look for the others, I see a flock of yellow swallowtail butterflies drifting silently down the path made by the creek.  Truly, maybe fifty or more wafting past in a straggly line.  For the rest of our trek we spy the butterflies, mostly in twos and threes after the largest group went past, flitting by on their journey to somewhere.

There is no internet service up here - no cell phone service either - so I can't look up information on swallowtails.  Maybe I will when I get home; maybe not. Sometimes it's nice to simply enjoy a mystery.