It's been awhile since I have posted on my blog. One might wonder if one is suffering from writer's block, if one presumes to be a writer and is presumptuous enough to assume that one has readers. One is going to stop now and speak (or write) in the first person. I actually don't think I am afflicted with writer's block because I think that when I called this blog 'To rave or to rant' I exaggerated how much I may have to rave or rant about. Sometime back this would not have been a problem but since I have been practising 'Mindfulness' (with limited success as I established in my previous post) I monitor my conversations with myself. Yes, I do have conversations with myself - we all do. Most of these conversations are judgements or constant opinions about everything that takes place in the present, sometimes making links with the past and occasionally, projecting into the future, which ironically keeps me (and most of us) from participating actively in the present moment.
For example, if I am driving along and a pigeon decides that the middle of the road is quite a good place to be and despite my approaching vehicle and the sound of the motor, the bird continues to occupy the middle of the road, I might even have to honk my horn at the last minute before it takes the hint and moves out of the way. The reality is that disaster has been averted (albeit mostly for the pigeon) and I should enjoy the rest of my drive and more importantly concentrate on my driving. But do I do that? Do any of us? Absolutely not. There is conversation to be had in our heads. "That stupid bird! Now I know where the term 'bird brain' originated, just as well I noticed it, if I hadn't I would have run it over and then I would have felt awful, even though it wouldn't have been my fault"......... and on and on it goes.Our mental conversation never stops. Ironically, the poor bird has taken flight and moved onto other things. No thoughts like 'stupid humans with those big, moving, noisy machines We were here long before there even was a road here. How dare she honk at me like a prancing goose, no respect at all. Why couldn't she have waited until I was done?' No, while the bird hasn't given the whole incident a second thought, I have given it a second, third, fourth and possibly a fifth thought. Who is the real bird brain here one wonders.
So that is my problem; My life is quite ordinary like most peoples' lives. Mindfulness has taught me to rave and rant in the present moment, if indeed a situation calls for one or the other, and then to move on. But most of the time, everything that happens falls somewhere in between. I have now decided to take a leaf out of the book of those people who have decided to fuse words together and come up with words like Brangelina, Brexit and Bremain. Yes, I have decided that since most situations in my life are somewhere between raving and ranting, when I am undecided, I shall now 'Ravant'! Yes all you Brexiteers and Bremainers, three can play that game. From now on, I shall ravant about my life observations and situations unless they are worth raving or ranting about, in which case I shall happily let rip and rave and rant to my heart's content.
Having made up a blended word, ravant, you would expect me to end this post on a ravant. But I could not possibly be predictable, so I'll end on a rant. The other day, I was driving down a road where there were parked cars to my right. I of course had right of way (unless you live in that part of the world where you drive on the right hand side of the road, in which case don't tax your brain to understand, just trust me on this) although you would be hard pushed to come to that conclusion if you saw the behaviour of the motorists coming in the opposite direction. Although I was mildly irritated by this, in retrospect, I appreciate the fact that most of them had the decency to slow down and stay quite close to the parked cars on their side, as they passed me. That was before a white van came hurtling towards me. The driver had obviously crowned himself king of the road and obtained his licence from the Driving School for Imbeciles. As there was no sign of him slowing down or moving closer to the cars on his side, I was forced to swerve at the last minute and hit the pavement with a thud. My handbag and its contents went flying and my chest and it's three dimensional bits hit the steering wheel. Fortunately the driver in the car behind the van was considerate enough to stop (speedy Gonsalves carried on) while I collected myself before driving on to pick my daughter up from the train station, with trembling legs, concern for Boo (my car) and a fuming mind - where is Mindfulness when you need it. Later that evening, I recounted what happened to my husband and he asked me if the driver had stopped. With a rush of justified sarcasm I answered, "Yes," And added "He also apologised profusely and promised never to do it again." On reflection, the driver was probably using speed and bullish behaviour to compensate for the lack of something in his life, I could take a few guesses but your guess is as good as mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment