It starts innocently enough. You’re having a rotten morning and could use a listening ear, but nobody’s available to talk. So, because your cellphone’s within easy reach, you pick it up and begin to search the web for something inspirational, a simple word or phrase to shift your perspective. Then the algorithms kick in. Crikey! A video line-up of individuals touting cures for the world’s ills, all vying for the chance to enlighten little old you. Because they care. And they know. And they can guide you toward a better day, a great life, and a joyful state of mind. All in 3, 7 or 10 simple steps. “Just click on the link below.” Hah!
If your tolerance is low that day, like mine was, look out. I proceeded to click. And watch. Click-watch. Click-click-watch-watch. Whoa! An hour and a half flew by, yielding a stream of presenters who looked like perfection, sounded weirdly sincere and yet rehearsed, and had a thing for fresh flowers in chic/ornate/rustic vases. Exactly two takeaways, basically reminders, seemed worth noting: (1) Our bodies may respond negatively to heat and humidity, leading to fatigue and exhaustion; (2) There’s breathing and then there’s breathing — avoid the shallow kind.
All that scrolling on a cellphone had made my eyes go buggy and stiffened up my arthritic thumb. Note to self: when chasing rabbits through cyberspace, opt for computer.
The next morning, with that rotten mood sticking around like a burr I couldn’t pick off, I avoided the web completely and looked to my surroundings for a little inspiration. A pink sticky note on the wall above my desk stared back at me. I’d put it there months ago. The glue on those things is good.
“Listen,” it read. So I sat on the swivel desk chair without swiveling, and listened. Birds (finches?) chirped outside the window, traffic hummed intermittently, wind rustled poplar leaves. The sounds were not unpleasant. Even the strains of “Achy Breaky Heart” from my neighbour’s radio had an ironically uplifting vibe. I felt encouraged.
Next in the “I spy” game: a standup plaque on a crowded bookshelf jumped out at me. Well, not literally. “Never underestimate the power of a cup of tea” it advised in calligraphic script.
“Oh, alright then,” I sighed. “I can take a hint.”
It felt right to perform the whole ritual: boil the kettle until it whistled, rinse the porcelain teapot with hot water, steep the herbal brew for 10 minutes. It stayed warm thanks to a flowery tea cozy, a gift from my sister when I thought they’d become extinct. I’d almost had to revive the old Singer portable, or worse yet, learn to knit – ack!
Indeed, sipping tea for a few quiet kitchen minutes was beneficial. That’s when I came across the serenity prayer. Not a tangible version, but the one in my head I forget to refer to, the one about accepting the stuff you can’t change, and changing what you can. I couldn’t magically make people available to talk, but I could write my thoughts down. So I did.
Maybe you have your own sources of inspiration. The trick for some of us is remembering to pause and use them. It’s time to move mine around, unearth some stored ones, and put them where they’ll be noticed. Particularly on those days that start out rotten.
