The Tolerable Weight of Existing
The present always seems a little tenuous when it is sure to be interrupted.
A parent’s workday in the time of COVID is filled with stops, pauses, excursions, and frustrating conversations about absolutely nothing.
Parenting requires that a person patiently marvel at a developing brain and guide it toward socially acceptable behaviors and safely away from cluster B personality disorders. Working requires the desire to solve problems with a developed and focused brain. Parenting + working = where angels fear to tread.
I am not one of those amazing mothers who can do both or even schedule both. But in trying to become such coinage, I’ve taken up meditation. Often, twice a day.
Twice a day, I sit still and let my mind race into a rut and then I tap-dance on the moon until once-a-monk Andy says, “open your eyes.”
Somewhere in there, I’ve discovered a little more about how to be okay with existing without doing a task and somewhere in that passiveness, I’ve gotten a lot busier in my social and work life.
In my desire to understand these dynamics, I have started to understand imaginary numbers and their purpose. They make everything make sense quickly. Life works under the premise of ixi=-1. I can make sense of an existence in a space where -1 is an applicable number. Life isn’t depressing with that little equation under my belt. Thanks, meditation.