life is like laundry and it's full of missing and unmatched socks.
“One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: treat yourself like your favourite pair of socks.
one of the sweetest things my partner does for me is bring me warm fuzzy socks. we call them Fat Socks.
every christmas i get new socks. and they are always warm and fuzzy. like hugs for my feet. life can be full of hugs. or it can be full of missing; missing someone, or something, or some experience. no matter what we do, loss is inevitable just like all the unmatched socks that come out of the drier.
“When I was young I found out that the big toe always ends up making a hole in a sock.
So I stopped wearing socks.”
one way to deal with the pressures of life is to stop living. to hide away from the world by not dealing with it.
my partner says that my feet eat through socks. she accuses my toe nails of ripping through the fabric. i think that's how people approach life - they either rend slowly, making holes, or aggressively rip their way through the fabric of their life. i am a slow hole maker. i move through the world slowly, finding my way, making holes in my personal obstacles.
I also have this weird phenomenon wherein my socks turn themselves around and end up backwards with the heel on the front of my foot. for some reason this drives my partner crazy and she is forever fixing my socks if she sees them backwards.
Life can be backwards socks sometimes and you can be forever trying to set things right. Sometimes it is easier when someone helps you.
“I experience the same level of intense concentration watching a thrilling tennis match as I do hunched over a heaping pile of warm socks diligently searching for exact matches.”
― Gregor Collins, The Accidental Caregiver: How I Met, Loved, and Lost Legendary Holocaust Refugee Maria Altmann
in my family, the laundry is not my job. i do the cooking and my partner takes care of cleaning our clothes. but i do sometimes have the job of folding the socks. folding socks is like searching for the meaning of life. there on the table is a jumble of colours, sizes, textures ... and it's your job to sort them out, match them, and fold them. then put them neatly in the drawer, into baskets sorted by colour and type.
life is a jumble of experiences and our brain sorts out those experiences through our senses. life is a jumble and we spend it trying to fit everything into baskets, sorted accordingly. and no matter what we do, there is always an unmatched sock.
Just remember, there is no law that says your socks have to match ...
be kind,
to yourself to
xoxo
...
No comments:
Post a Comment