Each week I make observations and dutifully take notes in preparation to write another post. This week – I began by writing an entirely different post-centered around life’s defining moments; one of them being -childbirth and-my initial struggle to maintain some autonomy-after my son, George-was born.
The focus being-how he has helped steer me towards being more accountable and-adaptable. And – although it checked all the marks of being a complete piece-it felt disingenuous.
Ironically – while touting my abilities to adapt and finally accept + embrace what is- in the time since George was born – Ive been working through that very inability to adapt to life’s ever changing circumstances and- my need for order. Needless to say – it’s what spurred this entry.
I have a tendency to become rigid-initially added “little” before rigid- but, let’s call a spade a spade here. I get locked into routines, eating habits and ways of being. With large sweeping changes- I do adapt- by quickly establishing routines and scrambling for order within whatever new paradigm I find myself in.
I’ve been reading, yet another- Phillip k Dick book and something I read recently resonated with me. “…the modern day masochist does not enjoy pain; he simply can’t stand being helpless.” In the past I’ve been accused of being a masochist – I’ve hastened an impending pain or looming consequence- but, not because I enjoy pain – as PKD states-“enjoying” pain is a semantic contradiction.” No one enjoys what they find unpleasant.
In a way – it was a revelation to me- something so seemingly apparent-that I hasten my way to order- back to a sense of control.
My partner does point it out to me- sometimes more often than I’d like -my tendency to revert to a standardized way of operating rather than-working with what’s in front of me.
So, we have-now had- two large plants in our dining room. It was the last bastion of what remained -that my son was forbidden to touch. But- he’d perpetually harass these plants and- I feared he’d lean on the smaller one and fall along with it – potentially breaking the vase and harming himself.
The making of lunch had become a point of stress in our day where I would usually end up completely exasperated. While I’d be busy preparing our lunch he’d make it a priority to terrorize the plants.
Finally my husband suggested – maybe we give them away and- somehow , I hadn’t considered this an option. Once I came to accept this notion – of finding a good home for them – I felt tremendous relief. I wouldn’t have to continue the daily battle with George and the plants.
Attachments – lay everywhere – and-yes, plants are lovely and I appreciate having them in my home but – it’s also a funny thing to claim ownership over plants.
I was thinking back to when I transplanted the large rubber plant and got the cheaper (non organic) soil since – I was not planning on eating it but – without consideration to the little agent of chaos I have – now running around-wishing to eat handfuls of the stuff if I let him have his way.
One cannot see – what one cannot see.
We have now found a home for these two guys and like with every situation In life – big or small – there lies a lesson in the midst of every attachment.
