Dear friend,
We wake up to our phone alarms, in the dark. One of us stirs first. Usually, it’ll be Chiara, but sometimes it’s me. I was folding the clean laundry late morning. It was warm like spring, the windows open to let in some fresh air. Earlier this morning, we saw snowdrops next to daffodils.
On Sunday, it’s forecast to snow.
The luxury of time, like velvet, fills the room.
Private moments of presence and peace are our birthright.
When you come off social media, you’re amazed how much of your attention it was taking up and how much that keeps you in a state of on.
We need time offline.
It’s odd to think I didn’t really use a computer until I got my first laptop around 2006.
When I started working, people were still mostly dropping messages in your pigeonhole. My mentor advised me to ignore a message the first and second time it turned up and consider it important only if the person didn’t give up and you got a third note.
Different times.
It makes me laugh thinking about it.
“I only want to be present.” The thought popped by for a visit like a little bird on the windowsill. I think of the peace that started visiting Dad as his mind changed and he became softer and more uncertain.
He saw birds where no-one else could.
I miss him suddenly and my heart opens. I feel his strength with me, more than ever. I may have forgiven him finally, for being human.
Recent weeks have been super task-oriented, and there’s a pleasure in that.
But one thing I like a lot is to be alone doing nothing much. Maybe reading Carlo Rovelli’s Helgoland and sipping a mug of tea, in the mug Chiara’s sister Barbara gave her for Christmas last year but one.
Sitting at the desk I got from a second-hand furniture store in Leytonstone. Restored it.
Feeling into the moment and my breathing and listening to Chiara getting ready to go out for dinner.
The luxury of time.
The algorithms are always on. They don’t need rest.
We do.
Rest is not a reward.
It’s a foundation.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey