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Sunday, October 25, 2020

The Handmaidens of Guilt

Covid-19 has put a spotlight on could-a, would-a, and should-a, the handmaidens of guilt. Six months ago, when everything changed, limitless opportunities opened up. Let's posit a grace period of, say, three weeks, when we were adjusting to the lack of routine and the loss of schedules. But after that period, surely it was time to pull ourselves together and make good use of this unprecedented gift of time.

 

Some people took action immediately. Took advantage of on-line classes to learn Mandarin, for example, to study art history, to take up the guitar at last. I know a woman who has researched, chosen, and distributed online a poem every day, along with an equally carefully researched photo or art piece to accompany the poem. Every day. I can't imagine the dedication required. A neighbour used this time to build (with the help of a contractor) a new deck and pergola overlooking the ravine behind his house.

 

In my own case I actually contemplated opening the lid of my abandoned piano just to depress the keys in no particular order or, even scarier, to take out a piece of music and devote myself to learning it. Re-learning it. I was able to withstand this temptation and the lid has remained quietly closed.

 

But what an opportunity this would have been to re-learn French. Once I knew the language. In fact, I taught it for eight years. But that ended in 1968, and it's now been more than fifty years since I gave any thought to irregular verbs.

 

If I'd applied myself, I could have knitted half a dozen sweaters since March. I could have sewn an entire new wardrobe. Now wait! This last wouldn't have been possible because no fabric stores were open for the first three or four months of the pandemic, and I have carefully (thank you, Marie Kondo) whittled my  fabric stash down to small lengths that were perfect for mask-making but not at all useful for sewing a new wardrobe.

 

So here I am, ruing the fruitless passage of all that time. I could have been busybusybusy, making progress on so many fronts. This is where the Guilt Sisters come in: could-a, would-a, should-a. But invoking them is just a reflex action. I think I should bring them in. But I don't really feel that way. I feel liberated. Free from having to produce in order to prove my worth. My take-away from these six months is a new-found indolence that transcends guilt. I am content to do nothing.

 

Not nothing at all, but nothing compared to how I lived for most of my life. Now, at the end of a day, I look back and see my tiny but sufficient accomplishments. I got up, washed, and dressed. I drank my chocolate tea while reading the Globe. I made the bed. I sewed a few masks. I prepared our brunch/lunch. I watered the back yard (that's five minutes right there), and I planned dinner. In the early afternoon I took a walk and then I read for the rest of the afternoon, until 4:30, when it was time to start dinner.

 

This pretty much describes my workday. On Friday and Saturday I did three or four loads of laundry, hanging the clothes out on the line to dry.

 

The highlight of each day—the great difference from my past—was the moment when I would boldly take a book and sit on the deck and read. No apologies. Just going outside to read for the rest of the day.

 

I am not under any hardship. I have learned a new way to live. And I won't ever be going back to my days of endless lists and productivity. I'm saying bye-bye to the handmaidens of guilt.

 

 

Copyright © 2020 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
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Sunday, October 18, 2020

I Do Not Know What I Know

If you take in these words

you will change not your life

but your awareness of your life.

 

Already these words fade from my memory,

maybe because they stretch

my understanding beyond what I can absorb.

I want these words in my heart:

I do not know what I know.

 

The true, if I understand this correctly,

enters not through the mind,

our self-appointed regulator,

but by some other, more subtle sense.

 

These words are precious seeds

to plant in my soul's now-fertile soil.

 

 

Copyright © 2020 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor




 

Sunday, October 11, 2020

Breathe with the Wind

The wind is practical, saying:

"Just breathe."

Not "if you breathe you will be healed,

or wise,

or even calm."

Not "breathe to find the pot of gold at rainbow's end."

Just breathe.

 

Like virtue, breathing is its own reward.

It fills the belly

and then the lungs

with air.

That's what breathing promises:

breathe and you will find air.

Pretty basic. Straightforward.

Breathe and you will find the elixir of life.

 

All those other benefits are add-ons,

bonuses designed to overcome your reluctance

to breathe in the beauty of this moment.

Bonuses are good

but not essential.

All we need to do is breathe.

And maybe, as the song says,

also smile.

 

 
Copyright © 2020 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
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Sunday, October 4, 2020

Just Singin'

One day, walking across the long bridge on my way from Dearborn Street to a restaurant in Yorkville, I found myself singing. Now, there was a time, maybe ten years ago, when I always sang as I walked. But then I stopped.

 

So imagine my shock when melodies tumbled up from my depths, through the rusty cords of my voice-box, and flowed out into the frigid wind, countering the traffic noise with full-throated sound.

 

Song! I'd forgotten how much delight (just like joy) I took (I take) in creating melodies, cadences, bridges, modulations. Sometimes I forget how simple it is to live; all I need to do is just give myself over to delight.

 

 
 
Copyright © 2020 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor