Monthly Archives: June 2016

I met Irving.

I now (day 7) walk early in the morning, in the New Bedford equivalent of Central Park (not really, but it does have a zoo and paths and flowers, pigeons, ducks  ponds,and errant people).  It’s called Buttonwood Park and Zoo and actually was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, so it does have a Central Park connection (on a much, much, smaller scale).  Since it is very quiet at that time I am able to collect my thoughts and it is a great way to start the morning.  As I walked, I felt someone’s eyes on me.  I looked around, saw no one , but  could not shake the feeling that I was being watched.  I turned and saw a deer staring at me.  He stood about 25 yards away in the brambles and bushes of honeysuckle and rhododendron. Our eyes locked and we stood our ground and neither of us moved.  Then it became awkward….I had to turn away.  Irving (as I decided he was called) won that staring contest.  I smiled (silently…you know what that feels like).  I continued along.  Irving looked gentle and yet significant.  It was a moment I carried away with me.

So, as to the name, Irving.  I had my husband read my post from yesterday.  I asked him (although I knew the answer, which happens to people who have that connection between them) whether he minded whether I used his name, once in a while. He said, actually he did mind, and said I should refer to him as “Irving”.  Somehow, I couldn’t call him Irving.  Then this morning, I met Irving the deer, and I knew that my husband will be mentioned only as my FHB (favorite human being), when he is part of my story.

Sometimes, when we already know the answer to the question we ask, we have to recognize whose needs are we trying to meet, our own, or someone else’s. I think it is an important distinction.  It has to do with paying attention. The answer is generally right in front of us or perhaps in the bushes and brambles of our morning routine.

 

 

It’s better to be the first elephant in the parade..

Apparently, this blog was born about a year ago and I have been cogitating about it and not adding to it since.  Now I am back, and ready to talk about the substance of my cogitations.  To give you readers a context for my ramblings…  I have lived in a large, former mill space, loft apartment for the past 3 plus years.  I live with my very patient husband, Ronn,  and our six year old cat (think adolescent), Paka.  The building is about 1/5th of a mile in length, has five floors and hallways that evoke “The Shining”.  And then there are the elevators (three) which at times seem as though the waiting is endless and forever.  I know that the elevators in the Empire State building are quicker despite there being 97 more floors.  This is where Ronn’s patience comes in.  He never seems bothered by things like this. I,  on the other hand,work at finding my place in this universe and spend a lot of time just thinking about so many things.  This will be the prelude to my writings.  I tend to find my way to substance by way of the mundane.

The reference for the title for this post is as follows. Last summer, while on the way to somewhere, along Maine’s Coastal Route 1, Ronn and I  were stuck in traffic (do you see the pattern for my impatient nature?) and we were luckily in the number one position to join the parade. We could see the cars and trucks ahead of us as we waited to merge. We could see the peoples’ expressions  of frustration and discontent, and  we settled in for quite a long time, at which point we spoke about the rhythm that we are often responding to, be it counter to our internal rhythm and the need to learn to keep the beat and not fight it.  We had the best vantage point and we were primed to go. We were the first elephant and that made me smile.

I promise not to make anyone wait for the next entry.  “Waiting is the hardest thing…we are always waiting for something.” This was said to my then 6 year old son as he wanted the microwave to go faster.  I guess he comes by it naturally.