Oh, Look (1)

If we are paying attention, we know we cause trouble for ourselves, spending so much time in the future or the past, planning (scheming?), regretting, having arguments with other people in our heads. I am sitting in bed sipping my morning lemon drink when I hear the rustling of a plastic bag outside my window. I consider getting up to see who is out there, but then I decide hearing a plastic bag can only be good. It means someone is picking up after their dog. I think about how upset people get about the dog poop, how they decide no one picks up after their dogs, how clearly wrong that thinking is. If that were true in our neighborhood we’d be awash, piles of poop everywhere, no open ground. I grimace because as usual it is the one rotten apple messing things up for everyone, making me think of the recent poop appearing along our road and my grumbling suspicion of the people who let their dogs run loose. I remember one of them, a little yipping thing, chasing me on my bike the other day. Before I know it, I am having a long imaginary conversation with the creepy owner. I even bring my aunt from Palm Desert into it, how she is deathly afraid of dogs, how we can’t even walk down the street. (We wouldn’t anyway, but I thought this was good “ammunition” for my argument.) Then I am back in my home, the warm, round cup in my hands, the scent of lemons and garlic. I can see the tops of the sunflowers and the bougainvillea blossoms in the courtyard. The house finch are chirping, quiet breakfast chatter. I hear the high-pitched twittery sound of mourning dove wings, and someone else who I don’t recognize is cheeping from the top of the power pole on the other side of the trailer. My body is tense from my imaginary worked up anger, my manufactured argument. I am annoyed with myself for adding to my own stress in such a ridiculous way. I know I do it all the time, but today I have no sense of humor about it. Today it just pisses me off. And that makes me sad. How do I cultivate a lighter touch? Where is that kinder, “Oh, oops” when I need it? How do I come to celebrate instead with a glad heart each time I return? Where is that gentler voice? I’m glad you’re back, Riba. And, look. There is a white-crowned sparrow sitting on the fence.

4 thoughts on “Oh, Look (1)

  1. Oh, I think venting in your head is good! It mellows the impact of future arguments (with creepy neighbours) ;)

    Sending you belated, but warm birthday wishes Riba. And congratulations on sticking with your 57! I’m impressed with your resolve. Good luck with the 58.

  2. Oh, ha ha ha ha ha! The only problem is I create all this tension in my body for no reason. ;-)

    Thanks for your good wishes on all counts, Madhu. And it is so sweet of you to stop by, too. I can only imagine how busy you must be!

    Good to see you. :)

  3. Love this post, Riba. I do that, too — creating imagined scenarios that involve explaining/justifying/”winning” but that only make me tense. I love how sharply you observe yourself… you’re accessing and describing what is human about *all of us*

  4. Oh, thank you, Bart. I really do want to let this shift in me, to learn not to add to the stress I can’t control by creating more in this way. But right now I am more concerned about becoming more kind to myself when I “catch” myself doing it. :)

    Thank you again!

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