...a way of seeing beyond inner and outer.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Abiding sufficiency of contentment. No longer an alien concept


      A decade ago, me, angry: "How can you sit here and just stare at the television night after night and not want anything else out of your life?"   
    "I'm content." 
     Me again, but shocked, nay, horrified.  "I hope I'm never content."  I meant it.
     The idea that contentment was positive was beyond me.  I must have looked at him like he was from another universe. I certainly felt like he was from another universe. Contentment was the end of something, its finish, as if, when you had it, what was the point in doing anything else? Why not just die?  Extreme, yes. but I was ten years younger and light years dumber.

     Friday night, my husband and I were discussing the laundry because we're terribly exciting people  I have a very rich fantasy life where I live in a beach house with a large mudroom complete with washer, dryer, sink, folding  table, gift wrapping station and craft island, while back in reality, I haul the laundry to the communal laundromat.  I also pretend I am in Paris with my little wheeled cart on the way to the neighborhood lavomatic. When I can pull that off, I don't hate it quite so much, and just so you know that I know I'm whining, I know I could have to haul it to the river and bang it on rocks. Semper veritas aka reality check: It also happens that my 2B2B apartment is very nicely situated. It just lacks a few "luxury" items, and they are luxury items when you hold my life up to the life of the vast majority of people on this planet. 

     This morning I got up and told my husband, at the end of my life, if I had to choose whether I could say I was able to take the laundry downstairs and do it in the laundry room or I was able to see the world, I would choose the latter.  Easily. By a landslide. So for now, my extra pennies will go into a juliet jar, an aussie account, they'll be turned into Delhi dollars, and when I do pull my wheeled cart down to the local lavomatic from my 2B2B apartment in Paris, I'll probably pretend I'm having it done by someone else.  That's the nature of human existence.    You'll never get from  any thing what you hope you'll get from them, even if the "thing" is an apartment in Paris.  In spirit, I'm giving my pretend washer and dryer to the lady banging her clothes on the rocks.. at least until the universe gives me the beach house, then I'll find her and buy her a real one.  In the mean time, I'm going to try to get used to the notion of being right here with my wheeled laundry cart, unless of course they give me a really good deal on the 2B2B with a washer dryer.  Contentment doesn't seem so alien any more, but we're still getting to know each other.



  1. I find guitar picks in the oddest places ahd hubby always has one in his pocket- I'm going to recommend he stash them in a pretty jar!

    Happy Macro Monday even though I'm not participating this week--- got to download gimp and put my photos back on the computer then I will be back in biz!!

  2. this was actually taken in a shop where a distant cousin of my husband's works, also a guitar nut, and banjo.. thus the kindle.. J. finger picks so picks aren't a problem, capos on the other hand.. everywhere...

  3. Lisa: Glad you enjoyed it and thank you for commenting. I traced your comment back and found a white cotton tee ;)

  4. Your little cousins once removed love guitar picks. Even the one who doesn't play guitar.

  5. I'll put some in the mail to them. Your mom gave me your addr.


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