Presence

Not That Music (Please?)

January 29, 2022

I think I have new neighbors.

Or possibly the old neighbors have suddenly developed a taste for a strange Halloween kind of music. It was blasting from their little house up the hill out into the world  (my world) the other afternoon when I got home from my day of substitute teaching.

I think it’s new neighbors.

I was very much not a fan of that music.

My son saw my distraught expression and offered his headphones.

I said, “I do not want to wear headphones in my house to block out someone else’s music.”

Possibly the music wasn’t even that loud in the house. It wasn’t bothering my son at all. I don’t think he even noticed it. But since I was listening for it (and annoyed by it), I heard it oh so clearly. The bass was especially booming.

One of my favorite things about living in the woods is that it’s quiet enough to hear the real world, the “not human” world. There’s the creek, the wind, the birds at my feeders. There are some human noises, of course, but mostly they are friendly, familiar, and don’t trouble me.  I don’t mind the train whistle, which blows every few hours, or the occasional delivery truck rumbling up the hill on its way to the store, full of potato chips or beer, two items that sell especially well at our little corner market.

I also confess that I am overly sensitive to loud music. I’ve been blessed in the eight years that we’ve lived here that it’s never been an issue. More than that? I am fond of quiet. Centering prayer has steeped me in that.

I thought about going up to the offending house to introduce myself that afternoon with the plan of nicely asking them to please turn down that hideous, terrible racket.

That probably would not have been the best way to handle it.

Luckily, before I could get my shoes tied and coat on, I thought of my wise friend who has often counselled me when I’ve been on the verge of dashing off a snarky text message or making a completely justified phone call to straighten somebody out, that it’s always wise to “HALT” first.  That is, not to initiate a potentially contentious interaction when you are “(H)ungry, (A)ngry, (L)onely or (T)ired.”   I was at least three of these, “tired” being at the top of the list, because while the subbing is good work, it does take a lot out of you.  So instead of marching up the street, I exercised a tremendous amount of self-control, turned on the dishwasher (could still hear the bass underneath it, though!) and took a shower three hours earlier than I normally would have with the bathroom fan and heater running.

The music stopped soon after that. There was much rejoicing.

Maybe soon I will do what I would have done earlier if I had known that new folks had arrived in our neighborhood. Knock on the door, say hello, and drop off something sweet. Cookies maybe, or a $5.00 Friday special cake from Safeway, (or a pair of nifty headphones?). Hopefully it would be a friendly meeting. And if, on the off chance, they gave off psychopathic vibes, I would at least have more information.

I just hope that I don’t have to start using headphones in my house.

I’m finishing this piece  a few days later, and the music hasn’t returned. I’ll keep you posted. And if you have any suggestions or wisdom to offer, I’d love for you to share. Feel free to drop a comment below.

Presence

God Is in the Paw Marks

January 22, 2022

Start here.

Start close.

Start at the kitchen table.

Two blankets. One on my lap. One on the floor for Biscuit, who sleeps at my feet.

 

Biscuit likes these fuzzy blankets.  When he sees them at the kitchen table, he abandons his soft bed on the floor, or the gray blanket on top of the red couch. When my son sits for breakfast at the table on school days, he usually brings one of these blankets with him. Biscuit appears moments later and finds a spot at my son’s feet. When I do my morning Centering Prayer time, I go to my bedroom and cover up with one of those blankets. Biscuit takes his place there, too.

Biscuit is a natural at Centering Prayer.

He instantly drops into silence. I wish I could rest as easily and comfortably in God’s presence as Biscuit rests in mine.

Maybe that’s another picture of what Centering Prayer could look like for me: God in a rocking chair, me curled up at her feet, resting, covered by a fuzzy blanket.

The cat is snoring in the other room. It is that quiet in the house now.

I was slightly annoyed with fat cat the other morning. He managed to leave a trail of dirty paw marks from his litter box in the bathroom, through the kitchen, through the living room, back to my bedroom.  So the first thing I had to do after I stumbled into the kitchen was to grab the mop and try to erase them. I do not generally mop at 6 am. This was even before I made my tea! It was not my favorite way to start the day.

This is probably my fault, though. His litter must be wet, and what else is he supposed to do? If you ask Mr. Google how often you should scoop the presents that your cat leaves in his box, you will possibly discover that you are a failure as a pet owner. One website says you should scoop “once or twice a day, and it’s even better if you can get to it as soon as your cat has finished his business.”

As soon as he has “finished his business”?

That is never going to happen. Maybe I could try for once a day, though? That would be a marked improvement.

What else can I tell you about this week?

Mostly, it was ordinary.

There were those dirty paw prints on the floor and wood that had to be carried in for fires. There were warm days and bulbs in the front yard that are pushing their way toward the sunlight, while the shady backyard still has snow. I was grateful to have some massage work at the center, but I read my schedule wrong and accidentally gave one of my clients an hour massage instead of the half hour she requested. She apparently was so relaxed that she had no sense of time passing. She only budgeted for the half hour, but paid a little more at the end because she felt bad. It was my mistake, but I was still bummed about that whole thing, since it was already a long day for me, and that made it longer than it had to be.

I had walks with friends (one friend walked with me via FaceTime) and several talks with my daughter, who was excited to share that she found a coupon for a free UberEats delivery, up to $10. She got a falafel bowl delivered to her door, and since it cost exactly $10, it was free (except for the tip, because since she now receives tips in her donut shop job, she understands how important these are.) Her grandmother, the coupon queen, would have been so proud of her. I was proud, but also a little jealous, because I do not believe that the UberEats or Postmates people will ever deliver a delicious, authentic falafel bowl to my door.  Never.  We are just too far out in the boonies (which is short for “boondocks,” words my mom always used to say to describe where we lived when I was growing up, which ironically is less in the boonies than where we live now. Although they still probably do not have UberEats in the neighborhood where I grew up, so there’s that.)

The power stayed on this week (how quickly we started to take the power for granted again!). The car ran beautifully.  Everybody woke up feeling healthy and rested. I dropped  my son off at school every morning with time to spare. We finally (finally) got the Christmas tree down, except it doesn’t want to fit in the box anymore. Maybe there is a YouTube video on “how to get your fake Christmas tree neatly back in the box without saying swear words.” But at least it is partly in the box, so I am calling that a success. All the other Christmas is finally down too.

That was my ordinary this week. That was where God found me: in the paw marks, the mopping, the walks, the massages, the mistakes, the kitchen table, the fat cat snoring on the sofa, the dog on the blanket at my feet .