Tag Archives: busy

61. Busy Bee (Empathy, Lent 2)

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As someone with almost zero energy (due to a chronic illness), it is a mystery to me how some people can buzz around doing so much. Sometimes I find it tempting to be envious, when they have a million and one things done by the end of the day, and I’m so exhausted and in pain that I haven’t even managed to get dressed.

So today I will use my contemplative eye to imagine how it feels to be like that.

A list as long as your arm and I’m up and bouncing, with or without caffeine, at 7am. So much to do! It is not that I like rushing, particularly, sometimes I’d like to sit and concentrate on something for more than five minutes, without my body twitching and my mind itching to be off to the next thing. Sometimes I look at the quiet ones and the thinkers, and wonder what it’s like to be so seemingly serene. Calm oases for me are still full of chatter: mealtimes, catching up with friends or family, but it feeds my batteries. I love being with people. My big heart enjoys hearing about their days, and I make sure I do everything I can to help them get what they need. I take pride in being capable, I’m a stickler for cleanliness and I live my life to the full. I overflow with kindness and giving of my ability to get things done. I can’t be doing with lazing around, sitting still, being quiet. Who wants to do that? I’d much rather be zipping along, walking the dogs, teaching,  ferrying the old people and the kids about, listening to their woes, giving advice, I am giving cheer wherever I go and at the end of the day I can sigh, smile and be glad that I achieved so much. I fall into a deep sleep and look forward to everything I can get done tomorrow.

And oh, how we need people like this, the doers, the ones we can trust to get things sorted out. I find interactions exhausting and I am grateful that there are people who find them exhilarating, and who can drive here and there and be relied upon for so many important tasks. And if they enjoy it, so much the better. This is not what I am like at all, and though I long to get lots done, now I’ve looked at it in this way, I feel easier about my difference, and more grateful to the “busy bees” I know.

Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

152: Carousel

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Unstoppably spinning till the seats are empty, the whirlwind of our minds merry-go-rounds and swirls, like giant teacups at the fair, clutching at the sides in case the hot drink goes splashing over the edges. Half the time we are screaming in fun, and the rest, desperate to disembark, like sailors with no faith in the prophesied arrival of sealegs.

And suppose we got our wish, and the machinery ground to a stuttering halt, cogs clanking to a surprised standstill? Would we sit, contentedly, waiting for the inevitability of rust, or would we find ourselves restless and stretching, out of sorts with the motionless existence, like a moonless tide? And if the planet followed suit and was released from its perpetual movement, the godchild we imagine in our smallness bored of its toy and forgetful in spinning of our celestial axis, wouldn’t we then find ourselves flung into space, back seat drivers without the seatbelt of gravity or faith, realising for all our grumbling and protesting that we were created to go around and around and around again?

 

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015

 

149: Esplanade

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I sit, hugging my knees on the concrete, the hardness raw with discomfort. I am here but not here, not wanting to be part of the bustle that isobars around me and flows past in a stream of busy-ness. Unusual and so ignored, somebody-else’s problem hunched on the uncaring pavement.

They all pass in oblivious haste, but as I blink open teary eyes, I can just see, over the lip of the overflowing rubbish bins: a pebbled beach, and beyond that, a watery cobalt expanse that reaches to the sky and seeks out all the edges, that rocks back and forth just like I do, sounding like the breath of home.

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015