It’s true – if you put a little caffeine in me, I can become a bit speedy. Perhaps it’s not fair to blame caffeine. At 60, I just might be becoming a bit forgetful. For a meditator, I should be more slow and centred, I suppose, moving around like an aware elephant while the world spins around me.
Not so, alas.
Just today, I found myself, as I wound my way around the back of Decarie Square in order to get into the indoor parking lot, behind a slow and hesitant driver. I could feel a black, angry impatience welling up inside but I did have enough awareness, thankfully, to see it at enough of a distance as the pinprick little demon that angry impatience is.
I’ve always moved around quickly. I usually walk quickly (unless I’m in the “strolling zone”); I remember always running to and from school as a little boy.
So in the moving-around Ron that I am, I am bound to leave things behind now and then, no?
Sadly, this has been happening more and more lately. Twice in the last month, I left my debit card sitting in the ATM machine and had to replace it. I’m always fumbling around in my pockets or my shoulder bag for something which I had just put away.
Last night when I arrived home, I realized that I had left both my cellphone and my e-reader in the office.
The last time I left my e-reader in the office, I was so hard-up for something to read that I sauntered down to Queen Mary Road and the local bookstore there and picked up Ian McEwan’s latest novel, The Children Act. It had been quite a while since I read something that wasn’t in digital form and I didn’t mind it one bit. (It’s a good book, by the way.)
Last night, I wasn’t quite ready to go out and buy another book. I picked up a couple of Bridge magazines that my father-in-law had given me and tried to understand Bridgespeak which is the language of advanced bridge players and discovered, to my dismay, that I could barely keep up with it. It was like reading an engineering manual for all the specialized jargon and labels. But I get it: you’re all geniuses.
Luckily, I was quite tired and ready to hit the sack early. Then, still early, my cellphone, the one that I had left in the office, started ringing. I had brought it after all, but when did I put it down on my bookshelf? I had no recollection of having taken it out of my pocket (although I did remember putting it in my shoulder bag while leaving the office) and placing it there. Whew, where was my mind?
Then today, my e-reader, where could it be? My Precious, my Precious, I had become a modern-day Gollum, I had to find my e-reader. I looked everywhere, pulling papers away on my desk and searching in all the obvious places. Where the heck was it?
Finally, I did find My Precious in an unlikely place on my desk and naturally I rejoiced. I wouldn’t have to buy a new e-reader (my third) after all on my way home to the country. But, I might ask, where was my mind, my awareness and my mindfulness when I placed it under the Hampstead Directory, of all places, in the corner of my desk?