So I am planning to re-establish this blog as a way of recording some of my thoughts about life.
Yesterday, I forced myself to sit down and stop while I ate my lunch. On our deck, the occasional train rumbles by below, a gorgeous view of estuary and mountains lies before me and from the reserve next door, numerous distinct bird-songs float past me. As I feel the breeze on my face I try to persuade myself that the long grassy jungle that is our back lawn is in the state it is because of environmental reasons. Good for the bees, less fuel burned by the lawnmower, the skinks love it and it is so much more natural than a carefully manicured one! Depends on the perspective I choose to take. Alternatively, I could allow myself to get really identified with my feeling of annoyance and self-blame (that the lawn hasn't been mown), or if that's too uncomfortable for me, I could project that blame onto any member of my family. Truth is, it is in the state it is in because... it just is. Life is happening and the state of the lawn has passed us by over winter.
I notice a young part of me remembering (or is it memories of my children's early years?) what it was like to be so engrossed in the moment, so present, that watching a butterfly flutter past felt like it took an eternity; remembering when a whole school year was like a lifetime. In some ways, I guess now (at a stage of life when there often seems to be not enough time in the day to do what needs to be done) I idealise the capacity for such focus, presence and carefree time. For children such a state is natural but as we grow that space can become crowded - if we let it. Is this a necessary evil of growing older?
I finish my lunch and choose to stay a while longer. It wasn't so long ago that I had toddlers and was sitting on this same deck with a good friend, desperate for a hand-hold out of the mire of depression I had sunk myself into. When I wasn't gulping wine to quell the unease, I was present to a whole lot of discomfort. Being present in this sense involved identification with my state of being. I was certainly engrossed in what I was feeling to the exclusion of all else, similar to the child state. However, I was suffering because of it.
My thoughts move to my mother who is nearly 82 years of age, lives an hour's drive away and who I had spoken to that morning. She doesn't come to visit as often as she used to, getting less comfortable with the difficulties of driving further than just around town. It strikes me that she seems to accept these limitations of her age and stage with a grace and acceptance that I can only hope to share at her age. Taking her as an example, it seems that it is possible to add more perspective to our quality of presence as we age, with a sense of the old adage "This too, shall pass". Then again we have all heard of, if not experienced, people who are either over-focussed on the past ("oh, that story again!") or continually worried about the future - non-present perspective-taking run amok..
These were the thoughts that wandered through my consciousness as I sat on the deck eating my lunch. Initially my thoughts had aligned presence with youth and perspective with aging. While it is certainly true that the ease of presence is greater when young and that we get more of a sense of perspective on life as we age, my ponderings led me to consider the developmental process from identification to objectivity. Perhaps what I strive for myself, at the moment anyway, is objective presence balanced with equanimous perspective...
by Jeanette Jones
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