In having before us a quiet Thanksgiving, we are slated to also have a quiet pre-Thanksgiving week. This creates an opportunity to reflect. On gratitude, on joy, on the inevitable sadness you feel when you hear about someone's loss. Can you have all three emotions in one day? On one holiday?
I think about this on my walk to the barn...
And I talk about this over breakfast with Ed.
Well, not so much about emotions -- that's not his topic! But about processing others' loss and grief. He tells me about recent articles/videos he's been tracking down on the science and history of electricity. (It's related!)
Do you know that just 200 years ago we had no electricity?
I didn't have it growing up at with my grandparents in the village!
I don't mean that. The world then had electricity. Your house wasn't powered by it, but you made use of it at every turn. But 200 years ago, no one knew about it, no one relied on it. Magicians played with a static charge and then someone, actually a handful of people, took it a step further. My point is, loss is part of life, but then, look how much our lives have evolved to minimize loss! In such a short period of time.
I suppose someone might say -- I wish I lived more in the future, in a century where children no longer had to battle cancer (my readings this morning had been about that), then I will protect myself from a possible loss of a child from disease. Well yes, but if loss is part of life, it will be with us in some fashion always. Looking for a time without its threat surely is a futile enterprise. Isn't it better to think how splendid it is to have lived with all that we do have now, we the carriers of progress, perhaps not necessarily the direct inventors of cures, medicines, preventions, or electricity, but still, there, carrying the torch forward, in much the same way the magicians' play with static charge eventually lead the world to LED light bulbs, now available at your local store? With lights twinkling every which way we look -- including on our porch, with furnaces heating, hot water pouring out of our faucets.
Ed often talks about collective knowledge, shared ideas, breakthrough in design (it's his field after all). We are both of the generation that couldn't conceive of sharing knowledge in the way that it is shared now (through the internet). We were happy if we lived near libraries (how many times as a young adult, I'd head over to the medical library on campus to look up some health topic?!), relying on encyclopedias to get us to a basic understanding of how things work and who invented what in which epoch. These days? It's all within a click.
In other words -- it is possible to think about gratitude, joy and sadness -- all in one breath! We are equipped to handle all three and indeed, it is our job to reach down into our souls this week and spend a few minutes with all three, recognizing their validity, their worth. Their unique place in our lives.
In the afternoon, I pick up the girl, who is actually very adept at cycling through big emotions in record time. Today is a fine example of it: a dismal morning, a triumphant math class, an even better recess, and now, at the farmhouse, excitement at the discovery of calligraphy and kaleidoscopic image making. (This, shared with Ed. Long story.)
In the evening I examine my stock of winter candles. Ed claims that one of them -- the one that produces almost zero fragrance -- is irritating his nasal passages. Fragrance to him is mostly fine except when it isn't. Then it's like feeding him cilantro: a downward spiral into a hellish world where you're forced to eat soap and take whiffs of acidic chemicals. Goodbye, Montana Forest scent! Or wait -- Ed, didn't you say you had some work to do in the sheep shed tomorrow?
You gotta love a guy who can spend hours in a machining shop (those places smell of... machines) but who flinches at the light scent of Montana Forest!
We watch a movie tonight. Nothing about it is fun or funny or even mildly enjoyable, yet we are glued to it, waiting for each dramatic twist to take us further into a sinkhole of despair. Honestly, Ed! Tomorrow I'm taking charge of the movie selection. Somewhere out there, I will find a show that will make us end the day with a chuckle. Or at least a smile.
with love...
