order
finding order in human lives isn’t always as apparent as a chevron flight in migratory birds, or the construction plan of a Gothic cathedral. therefore, clearly, what the world desperately needs more of is another one of my lists.
in looking for this elusive order, a sacred schedule, I try to remember the usual categories. for one, there’s time. I could make use of the seven day week thing, it works for some people I know. writing it out reminds me of setting my timetable for school, back in school. it was actually exciting. I got quite proficient then on how wide the columns for each day could be – wider, of course, if you’re not considering the weekend as part of the timetable. within a few weeks, I got into the new schedule and observed how the new tasks and their timely arrangement filled my days with a certain type of energy, and how it worked with my self, and how it made me feel, and usually it was a pleasant experience.
but then, more categories come to mind, I remember that a pro/con list might be useful when making hairy decisions, and before you know it, my list spans several sheets of paper, or excel sheets. I put it on pause and go order that book I’d been thinking of. I walk into the kitchen and finally arrange one cabinet only for the storage of a certain group of items. I throw away some stuff that had been sitting on the shelves since two moves ago, I don’t think we’re going to consume those items anymore.
I get that blurry film over my pupils standing at the sink overlooking the window landscape, raking imaginary rocks in an imaginary zen garden. what is the purpose of arranging fleeting things again and again? in Zen, it is the very action itself, of course. so you get your garden in order. well, there’s still wind, birds, dogs and deer, skunks, teenagers, toys from the neighbor’s garden, a drunk driver’s truck in the middle of your arrangement if you’re particularly unlucky. racoons.
so you go rake some more.
n o r t h 