Leaving the grocery store, a young man carried my bags out to the car in shirt sleeves. The wind scoured Main Street. I was wrapped in down and wool—“I can make two trips,” I said, “you will get frostbite.”
He said he doesn’t feel the cold, and as we walked to my car, told me he stayed warm with controlled breathing. There was a long explanation that involved shallow breaths, slow breaths, and maybe both. It worked for him, since he was in no hurry, dressed for July and not even shivering.
Down at Mt. Market, Matt and I talked about Advent as I bought a bottle of wine from him. I said writing about Hope, Faith, Joy and Peace every day is helping me look for them, and maybe because I’m paying attention, I’m finding it.
He subscribes to an Advent meditation and said today’s was about Joy. He was surprised to learn that humans have a natural negativity bias, so joy can be difficult to grasp.
He said whomever was writing that mediation says it takes at least twelve seconds to re-wire your brain not to complain. Or maybe he said twelve minutes? “The point being…” is that we may not be able to magically conjure up joy, but we can prepare for it by practicing gratitude, by noticing what is going well rather than adding to the long, easy list of what’s not.
Yesterday, a lot of us went to a burial, or rather a gathering at the cemetery before the actual burial which was private since the deceased was in the back of a mini-van wrapped in a shroud, and it wasn’t clear how moving him would work, and best kept discreet. Diz (78) was one of the nicest people in the world, but death happens to everyone sooner or later. His wife leans Quaker, so we stood at the gravesite and talked about how great Diz was. After about an hour, it was suggested we find a warmer place to continue the memories and tributes so we don’t die too, and then Amy said before we go, we should sing Diz’s song, she lead us as we slapped our thighs and clapped our hands like cheerleaders at the big game — “We will, we will rock you– We will, we will rock you- We will we will rock you.”
On the way out of the cemetery, I saw a flower smiling in the snow– like a found poem.
