Vignettes from Home #4: Subtle Maneuvers
A few years ago, I came across a book called Daily Rituals, and was introduced to a short complaint that Franz Kafka wrote in 1912: “Time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible then one must try to wriggle through by subtle maneuvers.”
Hardly anyone would describe our recent life as pleasant or straightforward – although our pains and sufferings are not those of Kafka. Yet when the sense of time collapses, and the division between virtual and reality blends, one is prompted to reclaim the agency and sense of control by creating moments previously seen as tedious or rigid in the past, peaceful world. The rituals we received brought us warmth, the ultimate belief in humanity, and its strength. Hope it brings you the same. - Bing
.On Power. Erin.
As I recover from a major surgery I underwent back in December, I've been slowly rebuilding my physical endurance with the help of an online coach. Each workout with her helps me to keep a little piece of a promise to myself.
Once it was no longer responsible to go to a gym, she adapted my training plan to use equipment I have at home; having these rituals take place in my own living space made them all the more sacred.
I've let a lot of things slide due to the stress of the pandemic and the energy drain of recovery – it will be a while before I can quite plan a week the way I used to.
The one ritual, however, that I hold onto above all others is showing my body love and care.
.On Sunday Brunch. Meg.
In regular life, before these times, our eldest child had aerial classes every Sunday, mid-morning. So one of us would rise, and drive them to the coffee shop for breakfast, and then to class; the other parent would go grocery shopping, and afterwards we'd meet up with them and the younger child for lunch.
All that has ended for now. Instead each Sunday morning we make French toast – usually me, but this week the spouse let me sleep. We've had brioche, we've had cinnamon swirl bread, we've had Hawaiian sweet bread, we've had regular bread and dredged it in sprinkles (that left weird streaks). Regardless of style, every Sunday is now French toast. It has provided a great time to have breakfast and chill. I'll have to stick to waking up earlier to continue it in the future – or maybe we'll have late brunch.
.On Non-commutativity. Bryan.
“What do you and your disciples practice?” The Buddha replied, “We sit, we walk, and we eat. When we sit, we know we are sitting. When we walk, we know we are walking. When we eat, we know we are eating.” - The Long Road Turns to Joy, Thich Nhat Hanh
Apranihita, or aimlessness, might seem a funny rite: what’s so ritualistic about the removal of a destination? Moseying through my mental space in a destination-less journey taking place while I transport – first my dog to daily care, and then myself, via the subway, to work. I suffer the common trappings of my generation; my commute is scored by news updates in brief, more specialized news updates, and news updates punctuated by now infamous “hmph”s. The audio serves more as a metronome than as any sort of occupation of my thoughts; on the contrary, my thoughts wander mostly to mathematics, or interpersonal enigmas. With the removal of this commuting forth and back, so goes also this time spent wondering.
The sense of always having arrived doesn’t defray the goal from my movement. If anything, I feel more embroiled in pursuance of the next place. Now I have to stroll circuitously around my house, focus intently on hand-brewing my coffee, and hardest of all, know when I am eating.
For next issue, we’d like to see what is in bloom. Send us photos of what blossoms you’re seeing these days! Flowers at your home, your backyard, passed by on the street. Tell us what delighted and touched you, and help us share them with others. Email us at vignettes.from.home@gmail.com.
Until next time,