An Ordinary Day

 

Remember when we worked at jobs that we didn’t particularly like, or where someone in the office was offensive or the principal was egotistical and we waded through those ordinary days until TGIF and the up-coming weekend? We had children at home to feed and to send to the orthodontist. We had spousal  duties and social obligations. We lived through decades of doing what was expected of us.

And now? Where I live, in a senior community, we can choose to be dutiful and responsible, or, without guilt, we can choose to sit in the sun and do nothing or sit on the couch and read. Such are some of the rewards of getting old. But, when we look idle, we are still alert. We are appreciating the stillness, the spaciousness, the serenity of our lives. Even with twitches of pain and fallible knees, we gaze affectionately at red zinnias in a neighbor’s patch of garden, we share still-warm applesauce, we feel a part of an intimate group and a universal “oneness.”

Katrina Kenison, in her book, the gift of an ordinary day, says, “I realize there are qualities of mind and heart in me that I am grateful for. I recognize, emerging slowly from beneath the layers, the optimism that has always made me me. My faith in other people, the sense of wonder that dawns as fresh in me each day as morning. The idealism that is both my nature and my gift. The creation of a self, it seems, at this late stage of the game, is more a process than a project, more about opening and allowing than forcing and doing.”

Living daily, the view back longer than the view forward, reminds me that a simple change in focus can improve the tone of a day. Recently one morning, I wakened and asked once again, “Tell me. Just why am I here in this senior residence?”

I answered, “You are here because you want the experience of living in a community. You chose this place so your children would not have to choose.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” So, reminded of why, I recalled the admonition, “Thoughts are things. Choose the good ones.” As a proclaimed peace activist, I prod myself to create peace nearby. To start at home. Within myself.

Again, Katrina Kenison, whom I paraphrase, “If we are going to live the life we’ve dreamed, if this place is to become a home built not just of walls and beams, but of love and peace, then both the dwellings and the people in them will require steady care and attention. Peace, patience, and understanding will have to grow and be nurtured here first, if ever we are to carry peace and compassion out into the world beyond our door.”

These days, these ordinary days, life is shifting and I need to welcome the change and shift along with it, hopefully with a light heart. Clarissa Pinkola Estés says, “Mend the part of the world that is within your reach.”

Perhaps it does not have to be such hard work after all.