a very personalized/silly attempt at regaining control of my life by ensuring i have a functioning/feasible/healthy morning routine because god knows i need some peace of mind lols.
also, a 21 day challenge for myself and anyone willing to join me.
...
A similar train of thought to the last chapter: everyone loves to be busy. One seems purposeful when one is busy, like one is wasting one's life doing - God forbid - absolutely nothing.
Today's poem is by an author that I've featured once but couldn't help bring up again because she is simply a darling with words. The lovely Naomi Shihab Nye, everyone.
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'No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That's the armor everybody put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.'
I have recently left the big city for what is, in fact, a smaller city but can really only be called a modest town. The luxuries of city life do not exist here. Groceries do not get delivered at one's doorsteps and neither do cabs. Crows finish the lunch that we cannot. The milkman knows everybody by name.
So it's not as busy as the city and yet everyone still loves to be busy. It is a thing of pride to know one's daughter is so busy with work she can't make it home for the weekend. It is good for sons to be busy on calls with international clients at odd times of the day. Football practice. Art lessons. The moulding of a people who dread the silence of a Wednesday afternoon.
I understand this. Life is short and we ought to make the best of it. I do feel like many of us are pretending. Once in a while I see a young couple sitting on the veranda with a cup of sweet lime tea. I wonder if, as they look up at the leaves of the still young mango tree, they're wondering the same thing. Are we all trying to keep ourselves busy so that one day we finally won't have to?
