Saturday night having supper alone is beyond precious, is peacefulness quietly savored, embodiment of contentment. Saturday nights are not always so graced although intellectually it makes sense that this one night sandwiched between the two weekend days should be the most insulated from the busy world's hectic paces.
After lunch today I worked in the garden for a while. I tore off the stray ivy that has somehow invaded the border. I don't know where it came from. I certainly didn't plant it in the garden. They grow rapidly. Their leaves don't even die in the winter. Dark green on top and purple underneath, the leaves are actually pretty but if I leave the ivy alone it is bound to take over the border. Last summer it was just in one area of the garden. Today I discovered it had somehow leaped across the path to start at another area of the garden. Puzzling. Afterwards I drove to Sullivan's, my neighborhood hardware store, where I bought Miracle Grow potting soil and red pavers to keep soil from spilling past the edges of the borders.
As short bursts of light rain arrived with their panoply of thunder I decided not to walk outdoors. I did four miles at the gym before coming home to vacuum the house and dust some strategic surfaces. Frank and Audrey will be joining me tomorrow for meditation. I mopped the linoleum in the kitchen, bath areas and entryway. Was it perhaps the smell of clean that started the soft, quiet peacefulness?
I heated chicken broth I had made the other day, threw in halved bok choy and Japanese noodles. While eating I watched Antiques Roadshow on WFYI. A French country armoire built in 1776 was valued at $10,000. A photograph of the NY Yankees from the early 1900s was valued at $30,000. Such is the way of Yankee dollars. When there's nothing on public TV to watch, I read from a shelf of books by the dining room table. I've stored the books from that bookcase to make room for DVDs.
I used to tell myself I was collecting books, movies and music recordings that would keep me happily occupied in retirement. When retirement came last November, I didn't even notice how well provisioned I was for having the time now to engage in activities I truly enjoy. Was this what caused tonight's lovely serenity?
No. I've had this feeling before, a feeling more organic even than what appears after meditating. The sounds of the world outside seem to evaporate and there is just the little space that my body occupies. The rest is the cozy world of mind where thoughts don't stray very far into labyrinths of worry or desire. The mind quiet, its effortless preoccupation is just what's in front of it. It moves from one object to another without fanfare. Very nice.
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