You're Invited

BBC Radio 2 has this wonderful segment in the morning called "Pause for Thought".

It was that very segment that helped me come up with my blog title, the quote by Oscar Wilde. On a day when I was wondering what the heck I was doing with my life and why I bothered to continue to get out of bed, one of the "Pause For Thought"s was by a woman religious leader who had struggled to pull herself up out of the depression caused by the death of her father... at least I think that was what caused her sadness-- regardless, the message stayed with me.



So today, rather than offer up my incoherent ramblings, I will share the thought for last Friday: (all quoted from the BBC website)

Pause for Thought From Andy Puddicombe, Meditation expert and former Buddhist monk.
"Have you ever had one of those moments when you’re driving along and you suddenly catch yourself, you’ve been driving on auto-pilot for the last few miles? There’s that split second moment of being acutely aware of everything around you - followed quickly by a cold sweat and a sigh of relief.
As scary as it sounds, I think we’ve probably all done this at some time or another. And in many ways it’s a reflection of how we live our lives - on auto-pilot.

I was reminded of this the other day when a client came to see me at the clinic. He said he was feeling increasingly disconnected from the world around him, increasingly caught up in thoughts about work.

So I gave him an exercise to do, which involved him going for a short walk whilst applying a particular meditation technique. Ten minutes later he came back from the walk and said:
'I’ve lived just round the corner from here for 15 years, and I walk down this same street nearly every single day. But that’s the first time I’ve ever actually seen the street. It’s the first time I’ve noticed the colour of the houses, the smell of the flowers and the sounds of the birds'. But it’s what he said next that really struck me. He said 'Where have I been all my life?'

And I wonder just how many of us live our lives in this way; swept away by memories of the past, plans for the future. So preoccupied with thinking that we’re completely unaware of what’s actually taking place right now - oblivious to life unfolding around us.

I guess the present moment just feels so ordinary that we take it for granted; we forget to turn up for it. And yet it’s so extraordinary, a unique moment of time, untainted by concept, judgment or belief. Its life, laid bare, exactly as it is. And quite unlike anything else in life, we don’t need to go anywhere to get it, or do anything to create it. It’s right here, just waiting to be discovered. It’s in the eating of a sandwich, the drinking of a cup of tea, the washing of the dishes, ordinary, everyday activities.

Life’s short enough as it is. Shouldn’t we at least turn up for the event?"

Forty-Something

Recently I heard a man on BBC Radio mention that he was doing a lot of reminiscing, "You begin to do that when you reach your forties, don't you?".

We'll make today my "All Things British" day and point out that most sentences end in a question. "We all make mistakes like that, don't we?" "It's horrible how polar bears are losing their habitat, isn't it?" "You can't buy good clotted cream unless you're in Devon, can you?".
It goes along with their obliging, uber-polite nature, "I'm terribly sorry I hit your car when you pulled out in front of me nearly causing my child to lose all of her teeth on the dashboard".
I find it's almost like they are giving their statement the opportunity to be more of an inquiry in case you might be offended by it.
Anyway, we love it and we love all things British, don't we?

So, back to the radio comment.
Yes. I think you do (start reminiscing).

I cruise the Classmates page and wonder what people are doing (and then click on the "don't show my visit" button because I don't want to look as if I have no life and I am living in the past). I desperately sought (and found) the Christmas music I listened to as a kid and played it over and over and over.... not to mention the Koo Koo Choo Choo train that I had to have and paid antique prices for (and now won't let my kids play with it because it cost so much).
But I would say my biggest trip down (lack of ) Memory Lane is my quest for a doll's house. I never had one. I used to pathetically stack boxes on one another and fill them with anything I could gather from around the house.
So when I got here, I had to have a British doll's house.
You may not know this, but pathetic is something that you can wear, because one day this elderly man approached me at church and asked if I had a doll's house yet. I told him I didn't, but that I would get one before I left. He said, "Well, I am going to build you one" and did. He built one like he had built his wife (but got me the "proper" windows his wife tells me with a subtle glance towards her husband).

While it was being built, a dolls house showed up at my favorite auction house. I loved it. I hovered around it and nervously watched as the bids didn't make the reserve. I went back the following week thinking the reserve would be lowered, but it wasn't. I anxiously watched as the auctioneer rattled through bids on his book and maybe a lady in the back, but as the crowd moved towards the furniture, I looked at the tag and saw that it was still unsold! Third time I called my husband in Germany. From the car park. "Talk me out of this" I told him (he had already seen several pictures I sent with my camera phone). Something he said that got me was, "You need to ask yourself why you want it so bad. What need is this filling for you?" Wow. I didn't know....
So week four, I bought the darned thing. I couldn't bear to watch someone else take it away. It's like when the young man is asking if the young girl is right for him, and Mom says, "How would you feel if she walked out of your life tomorrow?" "I'd be devastated. I can't imagine my life without her in it." "Then I think you know the answer." (Real conversation, the couple marries on the 12th).
I still don't know what need the house is filling for me. I just know that when I look at it as I go up the landing, I want to hug it (and did the first couple of times).
Forty-something has been expensive for my husband, and unfortunately I plan to be in this age for a very long time.