“About yesterday, no tears. About tomorrow, no fears.” ~Byrl Rather’s advice to her son, Dan
Personally, I am the Master of Distraction. I have no tears or fears because I mentally change the channel whenever a memory or premonition pops into my head.
I grew up in an era when we were advised to work through things, deal with things, confront things; I can’t do that. I don’t know what the process is, I don’t know what the goal would be.
I do sometimes wonder if my way is the healthiest way. We were always told that avoiding our feelings is a Bad Thing. But truthfully, this works for me, and seems to be working well.
I suppose it’s that old hippie mantra, “Live for today,” or those old Buddhist teachings about living in the present moment.
I don’t know if Mrs. Rather would approve or not.
I’m off now to cultivate my garden.
There’s a line in a song, I forget which one, where Prince sings, “There is joy in repetition.” Singing that line made him happy, so he sang it about thirty more times.
And he’s right, there is a singular joy that comes from repetition. Catholics have their rosary, Eastern religions have mantra meditation. Techno is based on repeated notes, and everybody enjoys the part of the song where the chorus comes back around again. Poems and paintings are sometimes just patterns and variations on patterns.
Life is pretty unpredictable, and it seems like surprises are always of the unpleasant kind. I think the joy that comes from repetition is the comfort of knowing, at least in a limited way, what comes next.
“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: ‘In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.'” ~Isaiah 30:15
I think churches put too much emphasis on the repentance part, not enough on rest, quietness, and trust.
I collect nativities. (I admit that’s a strange hobby for someone who identifies as Hindu, but in my defense I am a strange person.)
Anyway, My mom got me this little figurine of a little snowman holding a little nativity, and I thought it was too cool not to share.
The first time the Klan came to our town, they were met with several hundred counter-protesters and people who just came to watch the show. They raged and shouted, and they all got their pictures in the paper. It was quite a ruckus.
But the second time they came, nobody much cared. They assembled on the courthouse steps, yelled for a little bit to empty streets, then scattered and went home.
They never came back a third time.
There are times when it’s important to stand up and be counted, times when it’s critical to make your voice heard, but there are other times when– almost counter-intuitively– the most powerful tool in your toolbox is apathy.