I had a problem getting up this morning so can only put it down to losing an hour because of the time stealer. Fortunately and unfortunately, when I put my clock forward some how the alarm was set. Which meant it went off and made sure I was awake; whereas, if it had not of dispelled sleep with it's high pitch screech I'd of stayed in my bed and enjoyed longer my slumber. The day was began in a glorious sun, hard and bright. In homage to this phenomenon there was only one option available. On the way to work I'd have a little walk, perhaps a mile and a half to the bus stop. It would add extra variety to my day. I enjoyed the crisp slightly chilled air but soon warmed up. I thought of Sparkling and wondered if she had the same problem getting up as I had. Mind it is cooler up north than down south and Sparkling does enjoy the odd lay in bed, which she will remind me she never has a chance to do. Being on account she is always on call, as a mum, 27/7 to Rock Chick. Not to mention the rest.
It is important to put a little variety into each day where possible. To do something different, whether it is walk a different route or go to a different place. Read a different paper, book, or leaflet. Listen to a different song or even hum. This is not to say routine is a stiffler of life, just to state variety can be introduced in the simplest of ways and make each day unique. For in reality each and every day really is unique. There will only be so many rising suns in the morning, because some mornings there is so much cloud you'll never see the sun. When the sun sets there is not always a sunset either and again the position of the sun is just a bit off than it was the day before. The weather will be different, but similar. The air may have a dampness or chill, or on some days just be plane still. Things happen in their context as they should do.
When I got on the bus I took out my book, which I've read before, it's called "The God Delusion" and began reading. However, unlike the first time I read it, the words seemed to be read quicker as though there was some recognition somewhere in the back of my mind at what I'd already been over. It's impossible for mere mortals to remember every word of a book after one reading, except for the man studied by Luria, who remembered everything. While I sat there and was facing backwards as the bus went forward, I knew the persons in front of me would see the title of the book and wonder. No one said anything to me though. It didn't matter to me but to them it might of, but then if it did I'm sure they would of said something, or were just happy in their ignorance.
Yes for some reason, I enjoyed the morning, the walk, the bus ride, the elevator to my floor. I was aware and whole in the moment, of each moment. Even knowing I was late, it didn't matter and I didn't let it matter to me. Perhaps this means, things will only matter if you let them bother you. Though I know first hand this is not always easy to accomplish.
Tomorrow, I'll think I'll put on two different socks and see if it matters.
*Luria was a Russian psychologist who studied a man who never forgot a single thing. The man for a short period was a journalist. Luria tells the story of this unique person in a book titled "The mind of the Mnemonist."
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