These days I tend to wake up before the sun rises, to squeeze in some moments of quiet solitude before the day officially begins. I used to do this ages ago and I'd meditate. As there's no room of my own in a 2 bedroom apartment, or even a corner I can declare mine, I had a little mini shrine set up between 2 chairs in my living room. A graceful buddha hand holding a delicate lotus blossom sits on top of a pile of books including histories of Washington Square Park, a DaVinci art book, and Bar Mitzvah Disco (my dad and I are a full page, much to the amazement of a new friend who was over the other day). I'd light a candle, set the meditation timer on my mac dashboard, and sit for 10 minutes. In a row. Without doing anything else.
I can't fathom doing that now. Not the meditating part. The doing one and only one thing part. I've become just as splintered as the fragmented society/media I often rage against.
(I just took a second break to check twitter).
I'm constantly multi-tasking in a way that puts the old concept of multi-tasking to shame. It used to be impressive to listen to music, talk on the phone and do laundry. Last night, while I built a new FLOW film, I google chatted for a hour, maintained several twitter conversations, monitored FB, checked email, stayed on top of all FLOW mentions and amazon rank, texted back and forth, and helped my husband work through a cable problem so he could watch the Giants game.
(I just drank my first sip of tea only to realize I didn't actually put anything in my cup. I'm holding a hot, steamy mug of almost boiling water).
Even sitting and writing, which has now become a staple of my morning, is constantly interrupted. Besides my need to be updated nonstop in every possible arena, I now have to get everyone up and moving. In addition to the usual frenzy, today I have to be out before 8 to replace the pumpkin chocolate chip bread that I unwittingly ate part of, after Iz left it sitting, in a bag, on the dining room table. I assumed, wrongly, that she was done. She assumed that if she left it sitting there for 4 hours, it would be in exactly the same place for her to finish up. I see her assumption as a problem. She sees me as a snack thief. My penance? To get her a new piece before she leaves for school at 8. It was offering up that or another hour of raging. I pick my battles.
(It's now 7:04 and just her missing those precious 4 minutes could spell disaster for the next 56. I'll be back).
It's 7:53. I just had a lovely conversation about FLOW with the super cute guy at Royale. Left a copy for him to read that I'll pick up tomorrow. Now getting Iz up and out in the next 7 minutes and then on to the next kid.
It's 8:14. Met my neighbor who's home from college and talked Tony Hawke's new wii game and FLOW while waiting for the elevator. Jack's still sleeping. I can either write here for a few more, or delve into the world of "UGH," "I'M SO TIRED," "LEAVE ME ALONE." I know. I'm still typing . . . . obviously my choice has been made.
(Did I mention that I put olive oil instead of honey in my first cup of tea this morning?)
8:53. Falling back into stillness. It's colder out now than when I was on my pumpkin bread run. Chatted madly in the elevator, on the walk to school, fought through throngs of parents and kids, hustling to get in the door on time. And now, back home.
It's messy. But quiet. Warm and almost sleepy, as if the past two hours never happened. I feel myself slowing down, checking more slowly, easing into the emptiness of Monday morning. Taking a deep breath or two after hyperventilating for too long.
The phone just rang but I'm ignoring it.
Day 48 is grateful. Just really super grateful.