The majority of what I write on this blog is garden-related. But since my life consists of a great many things outside the garden, it's only logical that my mood and mind will wander beyond its green borders. So, momentarily, I'll put my garden hat and gloves aside.
The best sense I can make out of my present mood is that I've run out of patience. Perhaps with some others...but mostly...with myself. Considering I've always come up woefully short in that department to begin with, that brings my tolerance level not to zero but to a minus. Whether my current state is due to personal introspection or related to the undeniable reality of this being the day after the fifth anniversary of the greatest tragedy that befell this country in my lifetime and perhaps all others'. Whatever the reason, I've an uncontrollable need for release and as always that pressure is alleviated by words. My words.
Mostly I'm tired of wasting time. Which is solely my own fault. I cast no blame other than in my own direction. I'm tired of frittering away even milliseconds on minutiae, and I finally realized that the real problem lay not necessarily in that pre-occupation, but in my inability to personally define "minutiae".
Optimistically (which is also not my strong suit), I am sensing an increased clarity - perhaps due to increased age - (so much for my momentary optimism) of those people, events, opinions and moments I've allowed to impact the precious time I think I have on this Earth. "Think" because that's the only gauge we have of our allotted time here.
We all acknowledge our mortality, yet we live our lives as if we are immortal. We waste; we obsess; we expend precious energy and time in futile pursuit and inconsequential worries. We are either exhausting ourselves by shaking our fists at shadows. Or lemming-like, we accept what we perceive as our pre-determined fate and resign ourselves to that permanent position under clouds of doom. Fearful of stepping a toe into the sunshine, to lower those raised fists, opening our palms and embrace ourselves for who we are, what true gifts we have and make the most - the very most - out of it all. Then raise our arms once again. Only this time to rejoice in eternal gratitude for recognizing and banishing the minutiae.
Because I sense I may be the only one to read this, then I must assume I'm the only one to find some benefit from these words, and...for now that's enough for me. For now they simply serve as a written reminder to myself the next time I find myself stalled at another "minutiae fork-in-the-road".
After all my blatherings about recognizing and eliminating minutiae and not allowing it to interfere with what really matters in my life...whoops! I did it again!!. I permitted a sorry, inconsequential, insignificant event to swill around in my brain for longer than it deserved (which was no time at all). What's worse... I actually considered spending even more precious time addressing it.
Until I remembered that by addressing something I'm validating it. Not "agreeing". Validation doesn't mean agreement. It just means: recognition, and when I consider the source, it would have made my addressing it even more ludicrous.
Perhaps if I wrote 1,000 times on a blackboard: "Skip The Stupidity!" it might make a more lasting impression. Sometimes I need to be hit over the head to have something sink in. So, in that regard, I suppose I should be full of gratitude for this reminder. Or full of something.