I’ve been slow to update my site recently. I posted nearly 160 blog entries last year–a number that surprised me. In December of 2011, however, I didn’t post much. Here’s what’s been on my mind.
My father-in-law. He’s been with us for over two years. He’s now started in-home hospice. Dying is an absorbing event. I’m grateful to have the chance to go through it now, as an adult. I doubt it will be the last time. Although I’m not the primary care-giver, and our lives are full around Jack’s hospice life, there is a very definite pull of energy toward the back part of house where his room is. Three years ago, we renovated the final section of our house for just this purpose. It hasn’t been easy, but what about life is easy? And why should it be? Of all the two-bit planets in this two-bit galaxy, ours happens to support conscious life. The chances of that are staggeringly small. It’s a miraculous thing to ponder, but there’s no reason to believe the miraculous should be easy.
Also, on the total other side of the spectrum, my cassette adapter for my van stopped working and now I have to listen to the radio. My friends say, “Try NPR”–and that’s all well and good–but I don’t like talking on the radio. When I’m in the car, I like music. Now, down from the thousands of choices available to me on my iPod, I’m stuck with classic rock stations (unless Grace is in the car–and then it’s KISS 95’s All Hits All The Time). Not really having listened to rock radio in nearly 20 years, I was surprised to find that the songs are exactly the same. Seriously people–how many more times do you need to hear “Light My Fire” or “Break on Through” by the Doors? Me? I never, ever need to hear those songs again. And yet I’ve heard them both three times each in the last week. Give me “Peace Frog” once every ten years or so and I’m good with the Doors. Are the boomers so stuck in those old songs that they can’t bear to not hear the Doors everyday? And don’t get me started about Zeppelin. I’m in the car about twenty, thirty minutes a day tops and I’ve heard: “Stairway to Heaven” (two times), “Black Dog” (three times), “Misty Mountain Hop” (a great tune, admittedly, one time), “Fool in the Rain” (three times) and “Achilles Last Stand” (one time). Seriously? Is there some blood deficiency that requires Page/Plant infusions thrice daily? Even Robert Plant must hate how much he’s on the radio. People need to get out and find new music. Or maybe I should just bust the radio. It’s hopeless.
Also, it’s on in NH, I suppose. By “on,” I mean lots of republican volunteers calling looking for my vote. It’s ghastly. Newt the philanderer called today (his proxy, at least) and wanted to know if I could count on his vote. Not unless his name is Obama. Mitt called too. Mitt has shiny teeth and oily hair. I don’t care about his religion. His insistence that our country is the greatest in history galls me. He wants to shovel money into the military and also cut taxes. He talks about being married to his wife like it’s been a prison sentence. At least he hasn’t screwed around on his wife because he loves his country so much (Newt). I’m sure Santorum will be calling tomorrow trying to gauge my fear of gay people (the scary, scary gay agenda). Ron Paul called too. To all them, I just say no.
So, that’s the beginning of this year’s blogging for me. I’ve been feeling a little under the weather for the last couple of days and today, as I was starting to feel like myself again, I had the spark of an epiphany. Each winter break (teaching at the University of New Hampshire, I get an unbelievable break) I go into my time off thinking of all the things I have to “do.” I always have a list of things I need to get done. I’ve been a list maker all my life. I never, ever, ever get the list finished. It’s a pointless endeavor. I’m going to try an experiment for the next three weeks: I’m not to try to get anything done at all. Just going to see what happens when I stop trying to make anything happen. I’m going to attempt to live my life fully, but I’m not going to make lists, I’m not going to try to accomplish anything per se. Just going to live and breath. And do lots of hot yoga.