You know you’ve had a successful summer recess when:
1. You spent less time in the emergency room this year than last year 2. Your house looks like Genghis Khan rode through 3. You have bright, shiny new graffiti on your walls 4. Your laundry is threatening to break out of the laundry room 5. You still can’t find where that smell is coming from 6. Your cupboards are bare 7. Your neighbours are still talking to you 8. You managed to put together an acceptable school uniform 9. You opened your last jar of coffee on the day they went back to school 10. And despite all that, all you can think about is going back to bed to catch up on some sleep!
We cannot plan for everything. Therefore, we have to accept that life is uncertain.
Last week, I had my Thursday planned. On Wednesday night I ran over a triangular piece of brick while turning into my street. I heard the thud of air escaping. 100 yards farther along the street, as I parked outside my house, I could tell I had a flat tyre. It was dark, and late, and I went to bed.
Thursday morning, I could see that my plans for the day would have to be changed as I went to get the irreparable tyre replaced.
Was there any point in making a fuss? No. I had no choice but to spend the morning changing the wheel and waiting at the repair shop while my tyre was replaced. It wasn’t money I’d planned on spending. But what choice did I have?
So my son and I changed our plans and still enjoyed ourselves. Why?
Because we embraced the change; we embraced the uncertainty; and we got on with life. It was a challenge, but it was also an experience. It gave me the opportunity to show my son how to change a wheel, something I haven’t done since I can’t remember when. Now, although he hasn’t done the full job, he knows how the process works. It was a learning experience for my son, and an opportunity for me to practice equanimity.
We learned, and we enjoyed. No panic, no histrionics. Just enjoy end journey, embracing the uncertainty.
Which outdated technology do you miss the most, and why?
Okay. I’m not old enough to have used a quill regularly. But there’s something about the idea of slowing down in writing that is missing today.
It’s so easy to fire off e-mails, one after the other, without really thinking about the consequences. In times gone by, if you were angry with someone, you might have to sharpen your quill, dip your ink, and scratch away at the paper before sending your letter to arrive “sometime” in the future. It allowed time to think, “Is this really such an issue?”
There’s also something calming and comforting about the feel of a fountain pen scratching paper fibres as it glides across the page. It’s soothing. And it’s something that’s sadly missing today. Screens with styli come close. But there’s nothing to beat a dip pen, liquid ink, and paper.
