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.