Caution! It's all zen up in here.
So the first step on my path to peace and serenity is to live in the now.
I know that sounds really cheesy. Trust me, I know.
But I think I can see the practical usefulness of that idea.
For instance, sometimes I get frustrated by our teeny tiny house. It's a little 1950s brick bungalow, and it's pretty packed with 5 of us. There's only one bathroom, and the boys share a bedroom, and there's no place for a piano.
But, I got to thinking about how one day, we'll be in a bigger house, and the kids will all be off in their separate bedrooms, and we'll have to yell to hear each other, and we won't be all up in each other's space every moment. And in this future time, we'll look back on where we are now, and we'll remember how these were the good old days, when we were forced to live in REALLY close proximity to each other, and had to get along, and spent all our time together. We'll reminisce about this.
And so I decided I would try to live as much as I can, right now, in full awareness of how great this time together is. And I will try to remember that it won't be like this forever.
I will be cognizant that I am living in the good old days.
posted by grudge girl at 8:29 PM
4 Comments:
Have you read the Tao Of Pooh? It was the most eye opening book I've ever read, in that it explains the ideas of taoism in a way that made sense to me, ie the language of AA Milne.
Most of the time stuff like that explained in a serious way makes me roll my eyes and mutter obscenities.
Here is why you are superZen.
Replace all the outdoor chore stuff with taking care of kids stuff.
Poem: "This Shining Moment in the Now" by David Budbill, from While We've Still Got Feet © Copper Canyon Press. Reprinted with permission.
This Shining Moment in the Now
When I work outdoors all day, every day, as I do now, in the fall,
getting ready for winter, tearing up the garden, digging potatoes,
gathering the squash, cutting firewood, making kindling, repairing
bridges over the brook, clearing trails in the woods, doing the last of
the fall mowing, pruning apple trees, taking down the screens,
putting up the storm windows, banking the house—all these things,
as preparation for the coming cold...
when I am every day all day all body and no mind, when I am
physically, wholly and completely, in this world with the birds,
the deer, the sky, the wind, the trees...
when day after day I think of nothing but what the next chore is,
when I go from clearing woods roads, to sharpening a chain saw,
to changing the oil in a mower, to stacking wood, when I am
all body and no mind...
when I am only here and now and nowhere else—then, and only
then, do I see the crippling power of mind, the curse of thought,
and I pause and wonder why I so seldom find
this shining moment in the now.
Honey. That poem is beautiful.
Thank you for adding that, and for encouraging me, and helping me to see that other perspective on what I do -- I am superZen mom.
And thanks for noticing, and being really well-read, and being funny when it's called for, and serious when it's called for.
This is a poem I'll need to read over and over and think about, and I'm also going to take it to my class on Tuesday to share.
TL: I think you just won Andy's fandom, because he loves that book very much. :)
What you say is so true -- and so difficult to remember and do. Therin lies the rub, I guess, but personally, I could do with a little less rub in the world. Unless we're talking backrubs. That's another story entirely.
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