Mutability

Two days ago, after trying to last the evening without it, I finally turned on the air conditioner in my home. It felt decadent and untimely to do it, even though one thermometer in my home was still registering 90 degrees at~ 6:00 p.m. It was only early May after all, and just the previous week I had woken to frost on my deck. Spring seemed to have bypassed us all together, and now we were plopped into the middle of summer.

This morning the temperature has plunged back into the 40s, and again, I have tried to resist going to the thermostat but have caved in and turned on the heat. Outside it appears be wet and chilly, although I haven't stuck my head outside the door yet. I weigh the chances of my tackling the garden bed, which needs more soil and compost added, and wonder if can wait until next weekend.

It is easy to jump to the conclusion that this spring is a lesson in developing patience and flexibility, but these days I tend to look more for messages of perseverance and the need to brave some personal discomfort to achieve something. I am usually all too ready to interpret anything that interferes with my physical ease or convenience as an omen that I am not meant to exert myself. What would it be like for me to live in another culture and climate where every day might bring physical hardship and pain, where I would have to live with scarcity, hunger, aching muscles, instability, danger? Of course, I don't relish the thought of others lacking the basic needs for survival and personal safety, but I do envy the ability of many of the people in other parts of the US or the world to accept the mutability and adversity of their lives with equanimity and courage. The grackle, who was just now delousing himself on my deck, cannot afford to care what the temperature is; he takes a moment to groom, and then he's off to find food or shelter or another grackle.

Perseverance, resilience, courage, inner poise - these I want to begin cultivating today, even if I don't get my outside garden planted.