WordSisters

Category: doldrums

  • Hesitations

    Scratchy eyes, stuffed noses and sneezes mark the official leaf out of trees for many with allergies. In the upper Midwest climate change is warming our falls and appears to be cooling April and May. Typical years would have 12 April days with high temps of between 55 and 70 degrees. For two years we have had half of that. And trees need warmer temps on a steady schedule in April to grow leaves by May 1. Not only do we have slow moving weather, but Alberta wildfire smoke that blocks blue skies. 

    Ducks have been surveying our backyard, ignoring a small noisy dog, for the right place to lay their eggs. For two days they try the mulch under pine trees. Another day they sit in the middle of the lawn. Then they disappear.

    Our little granddaughter is able to race around the house holding onto one finger of an adult’s hand. For a few days she managed to travel the same track independently with a huge smile and laughs. After a few days of going solo, she returned to walking with someone. A week later she ran to greet us.

    Nature hesitates. The trees are quite healthy, the ducks will probably settle someplace under a neighbor’s deck, our granddaughter will travel on her own today or tomorrow. The world keeps spinning during these brief respites during transitions. Planets don’t collapse, rules of gravity remain intact, global population increases. 

    What I need to take away from nature is the difference between hesitation and procrastination. It’s okay to push back a haircut for a whole lot of reasons, but not so good to ignore a mammography or eye test. The choice between sloppy joes or pork chops for dinner can be delayed until right before I leave the grocery store. If I forget, there are scrambled eggs for dinner. 

    Hesitation has been given a bad rap. “He hesitated” implies a less than enthusiastic response to a question or opportunity. The elevator hesitated takes a story a whole different direction. She stepped on the gas and the car hesitated might mean a substantial repair bill. 

    Yet hesitations can be like a “could” instead of a “should” in a day if we lean into the luxury of rolling lesser decisions forward. In a life directed by dreaded to do lists, I hope I can leave paint swatches up on the wall another week to study how they look in the sun and light. A friend of mine did that for the entire holiday season including her husband’s staff party. Why not? 

  • Happy January Birthdays

    January, a month of fewest births and most deaths, is where we stand fighting the latest variant of Covid. How wearying to be still writing about this unwelcome virus. But like glitter left from wrapping paper or cards, it won’t be dusted, swept, vacuumed, washed, or wished away. Lots of people have stories about trying to rid the nasty stuff from clothes or rugs or skin, but no one really knows the secret to beat the stuff. Wear a mask, wash your hands, stay inside, but the hated Covid, like unwanted glitter, stays in the air. 

    Our family has a tradition of January births, even among in-laws. The older generation of January birthday holders has mostly passed, many on December dates, but there are four of us who are happy to celebrate. Birthday cake is a nice treat after holiday chocolates and cookies. Maybe there’ll be one more chance to get that sweater or book that wasn’t under the Christmas tree. Even better, everything is discounted and can be bought for yourself with little guilt. Even if there can’t be a party, there are safe ways to gather family or friends. If all fails, Zoom offers forty free minutes to talk with your relatives in sunny Florida. 

    “In the Bleak Mid-Winter” by Christina Rossetti and Gustav Holst often runs through my mind at this time of year.  Rossetti’s beautiful words describe winter: “Icy wind may moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like stone…” and that often experienced January weather of “Snow on snow on snow.” As soft and gentle as January is icy and lonely, versions by Sarah McLachlan and James Taylor and others fill my blue light time when it is neither day nor night. You have to sing through to the end of the song for its encouragement that “as empty as I am (of gifts for the Baby Jesus), I must give my heart.” 

    That is a magic message. If our basic physical needs are met, then we can push through January, holding each other tight inside our hearts until free once more to meet personally during spring’s warmer days. Until then call a friend, send a note, take a walk. We’ve figured this out and know how to make the weeks pass. In honor of the friends and family who are no longer with us to celebrate these January birthdays, I will treasure mine.

  • Steering Out of the Doldrums

    For the last two weeks, I’ve struggled with the late winter doldrums. I’m ready for spring, but Winter. Just. Won’t. Go. In sailing usage, “doldrums” refer to a low-pressure area around the equator where the winds disappear and sailing vessels could be trapped for days or weeks. That sums up my feeling: I’m becalmed, waiting for spring’s energy to blow my life back on course.

    I’ve been listless and had trouble mustering enthusiasm for new projects. Consequently, I’ve elevated my knack for wasting time to new heights (that should probably be “new lows”)—

    • Sleeping longer than normal (my body resists getting up in the dark again)
    • Reading mysteries (my go-to escapist read) instead of more challenging literature
    • Researching facial moisturizers (Seriously?!? That might deserve half an hour of my time, not the two hours I actually gave it.)

    This is familiar territory, so I go easy on myself when I recognize the pattern. In fact, that’s part of the cure—recognizing and accepting that I’m in the doldrums.

    Dissatisfaction and restlessness prod me to analyze where my time actually goes (this is pretty geeky, but it works for me). At first, I neutrally list how I’ve spent my time recently.

    That brings to mind a few things I ought to do (wash the kitchen floor, clean the bathrooms). I cross out those—they’re definitely not mood-lifters!

    Soon, my mind shifts from chores to daydreaming about what would be fun to do. A fresh little breeze of possibilities stirs. I begin a new list.

    For years, I’ve recalibrated my priorities by regularly asking myself: Am I living the life I want to lead? How can I tinker with my free time or refocus my efforts to be sure my work and family commitments are satisfying?

    I’m taking a new tack and moving forward again.