Wisdom isn't an old guy on the top of a mountain with a loin-cloth and waist-length hair. Wisdom isn't an answer. Wisdom is a question. I went to see a shrink once. And I was so disappointed that the shrink didn't have a big bag of answers. I came to be very grateful for it later, that what they have is a big bag of questions. You have the answers. Wisdom is the constant questioning of where you are.
It’s thunder storming now. I’m glad my windows are sheltered because I’ve got them open wide to let in the smell and sounds of the rain hitting the street.
The thunder storm seems an appropriate accompaniment to what I’m thinking: that my life is continuing to shift around, shaken out of several years of a schedule, daily habits, complacency at the office. Yeah, me and my life are still adjusting to the new job and the new schedule; but we’re happy.
I couldn’t have imagined just how much the chopping out of two hours of daily travel would change that life, but the sense of relief as I put on my walking shoes every morning and afternoon – where less than two weeks ago I was moving amongst underground crowds and squishing onto trains and streetcars and buses – is palpable. And relief is the right word. Now going to and from work, it’s head up and smiling, taking my time getting home, walking different routes each day because that extra two hours seems like all the time in the world. Then, getting home and making dinner, deliberately and with pleasure, framed around an “I feel like eating this” instead of “I’m tired and starving and need something fast.”
Me and life are shifting around the job itself, too. New people, new ways of doing things, new ‘tools’ with which to do them; if starting a new job is less daunting than it was when I was younger, it’s no less consuming. I’m learning an industry I knew nothing about; reading and trying to grasp a lay person’s understanding of it at the same time I’m getting assignments to write about it. Well I guess is still rather daunting. But it’s all good. I feel supported and welcomed in my new gig, and I look forward to making my new job my own.
And then there’s summer. She’s a shy visitor this year – sticking her nose in the door a few times only to creep back out again. Mostly the last few weeks have been lovely, as summer came in, relaxed and kicked her shoes off. Especially over the weekend.
As did I. I’m finding it really hard to stay in.
And so I continue to be preoccupied by the shifting around of me and my life. But I’m starting to get my mind wrapped around all the change and new learning; thanks, I think, to the warm days and evenings calling me outside, telling me as only warm days and evenings do, to slow down and breathe.
At night I walk; when the changing air throws the smell of the lake across the road and into my windows. That same smell welcomes me home as I walk down into my street and it gives me comfort amidst the ruckus of the streetcars sailing by. Streetcars that I don’t have to worry about catching.
The smell of water, whether falling out of the sky or wafting off a lake – beautiful thing number forty-five.