Going Back to the Basics

As a kid, I was taught that before I could read the day away, I had to finish all my household chores first. Errands and routine chores lined up as a prelude to what would be pleasurable activities. Bathed and clean, I could then call the day mine, to do with as I pleased.


Today, it is aptly called delaying gratification, simply the maturity to wait for something that is desired until it could be achieved -- all in its right time and its right place. A simple motivation to catapult me into doing the nitty gritty details of my tasks so I could finally do whatever it is I have planned for the day.

And this is rightly so. There is every good intention here. Thereafter, pure and simple bliss.

On one hand, there is something else I learned on the way. I became familiar with the all too uncomfortable feeling of IMPATIENCE.

I became impatient with the small details, and attacked things generally, with no attention and love for the unnoticeable. So long as I finish one and move on to the next, I am okay and good.

Like a well-oiled machine, I go through the motions and practice what was preached but didn't learn anything else. It all became a wily act, an act of survival. In my haste to go to the next level in this game I played, I forgot many things.

I forgot to brush my teeth slowly and savor the minty feel of the toothpaste in my mouth, as each stroke of the brush washes away tons of bacteria. I forgot to enjoy the feel of a clean mouth after this ritual.

I forgot to wipe surfaces gently and with attention to the direction of the wood, there was no talking to the wood-spirit and communing with nature in my own living room. I forgot that.

I forgot to fold clothes neatly, sorting every color, classifying each cloth according to use, and perhaps remembering things about the clothes or those they belong to. Sending them some kindly thought.

I forgot to change the linens slowly, lingeringly. Forgetting to smell the sun in the fabric and the picture of them dancing outside to the rhythm of a wind that was barely there in this hot, hot summertime.

I forgot.

I forgot to savor and relish and revere. I forgot to take my time and pause and appreciate what's going on and bathe in the rigours of the ordinary and find pleasure in repetition.

But now I have to conciously take the time to remember.

Re-member.
Put things together again, make sense of things and put value in the littlest detail.

My way of preparing for my little ones who I will be teaching in turn.