For the last couple of weeks I have been trying out a new approach. It sort of works surprisingly well and I am quite pleased with it.
Step one: Apply the basic principle of life and death. Or rather life vs death.
It boils down to a quick analysis: Will I make it through the day? And if under the circumstances it seems that I do - and this is obviously so - I'll just chuck out whatever it is that bothered me. Away with it, not worth dwelling on it.
Step two: Discover the basic underlying pattern in your life and if there is none - which is what seems to be the case most of the time. Honestly, the chaos! - make one up as you go along. Divide the day into periods of food intake, dental hygiene, laundry folding, cryptic crossword solving, paid employment, a chapter of whatever book comes in handy, coffee intake, meditation (sort of), fresh air exposure, conversations with other humans, watching R cook dinner and drug taking (purely pharmaceutical).
Step three: If all fails, go online. Or read a book. Or both.
This is the lake we did not swim in despite careful planning. Pandemically speaking. We did make online reservations for a socially distanced slot - four hours - to access the nature reserve that then allows you to get to the water safely. Alas, thunderstorms. Force something or other winds and flooded roads. We stayed home.
This is a maar, a very deep volcanic crater and the water is clear, cold and black. There are many of these maars in our part of the world, we are surrounded by volcanoes and hills that were formed by eruptions. Some of the lakes send up gas bubbles, so-called mofettes, warning us that there is activity, always. Volcanoes are never dormant.
In my healthy days, I swam across and back, it's about 1.5 km in total, several times.
It's one of my brilliant memories.
This is Friday's music.
That is certainly a good philosophy. "Will I make it through this day?"ReplyDelete
As to patterns- I think I have arranged my life to be almost too routine. If something (anything!) comes up to disturb it I am upset. I know why I do that- there is so little I can control- but it sure doesn't allow for happiness in flexibility.
How heartbreaking not to be able to use your planned hours to swim. Can you reschedule?
You swam across that lake and back. I wish I'd known, when the machinery of my body still worked optimally, not to take it for granted. I like your day at at time, segments of activity, philosophy.ReplyDelete
Thank you so much for that music and the step idea and a new word. Maar.ReplyDelete
I hope you and R get to swim in that beautiful place.
Because all else seems to fail for me, I spend much of my time on Step 3. That was how I survived my childhood. Had there been an internet, I would have been on it as a child. Would I have still read books? I hope so.
A quote from my mother as a young girl:
Books is my friends. I will stand by their sides 'til I die.
Is that in the Eifel? Years ago when my then bf (now husband) visited me in Germany he wanted to go to the Vulkaneifel because of the brewery there. We saw the Laachersee as well. Your philosophy makes as much sense as any other one these days.ReplyDelete
Yes, this is a maar in the Eifel.Delete
I was pleased to see meditation qualified by the parenthetical "sort of". There are of course other options such as day-dreaming, contemplation and ratiocination which more soft-brained writers than either of us employ to disguise the fact that their thoughts were, in retrospect, empty. Writers who'd hate to be accused of wasting time. But how does one waste time? By dwelling on small matters rather than grand propositions? What about great oaks from little acorns, etc, etc. Surely we're entitled to use our mental processes in whatever way we wish - the ultimate privacy - without the menace of external condemnation, This comment, for instance. Utterly pointless to others but I've temporarily made my mark. Was it in The Sword in the Stone that someone's lifetime work was to collect fumits left by the Questing Beast? Only connect, said E. M. Forster, and I may have just done that. T. H. White was not on my mind when I started. Afterthought: it may have been an entirely different novel.ReplyDelete
Clear, cold and black water sounds downright scary to me.ReplyDelete
I think what you're describing is basically what we all do -- impose order on the chaos to the extent that we're able. We require order (to varying degrees) as human beings, I think.
What a lovely lake! It startled me. Growing up in the geologically young western U.S., in the shadow of volcanoes, I always associated the politically older world (i.e. the east coast of the U.S.) with the geologically older world. So Germany, being even older world, should be geologically older still, right?ReplyDelete
Yes, one more day, a few more human-sized problems to address: that's how I manage to limp through.
oh well, best laid plans and all that. I don't make plans, not anymore. I just flit from one distraction to another, not accomplishing much of anything. waiting to get inspired again and do some art work.ReplyDelete
"Honestly, the chaos!" Yes.ReplyDelete
The marr!!!! OMG. When I swim tomorrow in our very large 23 mile long lake, I will offer my swim to you.ReplyDelete
Are you in the Eifel? I lived in Winden, near Düren for a while, back in the late 1950s...ReplyDelete
No, we live in the Rhine valley but the Eifel is not too far. The late 1950s, my goodness.Delete
Thanks for the clarification. Yes, it's a while ago. Loved the Eifel.ReplyDelete
Where is that lake? So beautiful. I'm sorry you weren't able to go in this time. Nature can be tricky that way.ReplyDelete
Well, this brilliant. I think I will adopt your plan. Thank you.ReplyDelete