Liturgy of Living

When things change, especially drastically, the unmooring from the routine you know can be quite discomfiting. Changes that occur because of something foreboding or threatening -- such as rescheduling your life because you need medical care, or because you've lost your job -- need no explanation for their disruption.  The future looks hazy at best, with the potential outcome pretty bleak: of course you're going to feel uncomfortable.  (Sorry to be such a downer, right outta the chute.)

But changes we choose -- new job, new home, new venue -- while exciting, can also be upsetting. An inducement of the recent topsy-turvy undulation of our lives at mid-life was a "what-the-heck" attitude that we redefined as courage.  It propelled us to uproot and take flight and all of those other euphemisms to  "just do it."  So we just did it, and while we don't rue that decision, it has lost some of its charm. Sometimes, we're pretty mopey.

That mopiness comes from the fatigue to keep up our enthusiasm.  Perhaps adventure is best set upon when you've got something staid and secure to return to.  A beautiful song by Marta Keen Thompson, "Homeward Bound," captures this sentiment beautifully (check out the full lyrics online.  The song even has its own Facebook page!).  One line is "When adventure's lost its meaning, I'll be homeward bound in time."  The refrain is:

"Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow. 

 Set me free to find my calling, and I'll return to you somehow."

Vacations are great, and travel has always instigated wistful wanderlust in both my husband and me.  Now that we've wandered far from home (with no home to return to), our adventuresome spirit is waning a bit. While we don't want to slip back into being mundane, there is sanity and sanctity in familiar routine: a liturgy of living, I suppose.  Our challenge is to find what the new routine will be; the current one, with its loose ends, is not one we want to continue!  I will add that being together establishes a grounded stake to which we can tether those loose ends that flap in the breeze. That is a blessing.

What we all need is "purpose."  Nothing will deplete your energy more than lacking one.  It is a struggle to deem even ordinary tasks and pursuits as meriting the moniker of  "purpose."  But I think it's possible, which is why I pursue this writing thing, and look for ways I can excel in  everyday details.

SOCKS

I take great pride

in matching my husband’s black socks

just so.

Though uniform in color,

their ridges are a garden-variety

of narrow and wide,

variants that don’t mix well

in a fabric bouquet.

The size is consistent:

all long-stemmed and broad-leaved.

But there is gold on some toes,

a pollen polka-dot

that pairs only with similarly flecked.

Mixing won’t match,

and matching is essential.