I remember visiting the local playground and park with my grandmother when I was a boy. She’d sit on a bench twirling her thumbs, smiling, enjoying the energy of the children but more than that. She enjoyed sitting still and being present. In her eighties and not immune to aches and pains, yet she kept them at bay. Like she’d negotiated a truce. Your essay called up those memories. Blaise Pascal says all our problems stem from being unable to sit quietly in a room. So who knows, maybe the rigorous swimming has given you an inner stillness. Detached, but still aware. Which I envy, because when I drop my plate of food the ensuing tantrum is assured.
Maybe it’s about thresholds. One of my closest friends resembles you - the equanimity, the quiet, the calm, the aware. When we worked together, it took us a while to get used to each other….because I was quick and loud and cursy, I used to think that her threshold for discomfort was so high that she stayed too long in shitty circumstances. After all these years, she’s likely better at leaving or advocating, and I’m better at being calm and aware. My point is, those around us affect us, so be near the impassioned ones to find a balance for your equanimity ;)
Perhaps every situation requires the right amount of those elements—it isn't exactly likely that anyone lands in a perfect equilibrium. So maybe having people around that push and pull, however maddening that might be, is for the best. Obviously that doesn't make it any less tedious to admit that the people around you, so very different, are so very necessary. Thank you for the comment, Trilety.
I remember visiting the local playground and park with my grandmother when I was a boy. She’d sit on a bench twirling her thumbs, smiling, enjoying the energy of the children but more than that. She enjoyed sitting still and being present. In her eighties and not immune to aches and pains, yet she kept them at bay. Like she’d negotiated a truce. Your essay called up those memories. Blaise Pascal says all our problems stem from being unable to sit quietly in a room. So who knows, maybe the rigorous swimming has given you an inner stillness. Detached, but still aware. Which I envy, because when I drop my plate of food the ensuing tantrum is assured.
I really appreciate that comment—which I read as a story with a good ending. Thank you, John.
Maybe it’s about thresholds. One of my closest friends resembles you - the equanimity, the quiet, the calm, the aware. When we worked together, it took us a while to get used to each other….because I was quick and loud and cursy, I used to think that her threshold for discomfort was so high that she stayed too long in shitty circumstances. After all these years, she’s likely better at leaving or advocating, and I’m better at being calm and aware. My point is, those around us affect us, so be near the impassioned ones to find a balance for your equanimity ;)
Perhaps every situation requires the right amount of those elements—it isn't exactly likely that anyone lands in a perfect equilibrium. So maybe having people around that push and pull, however maddening that might be, is for the best. Obviously that doesn't make it any less tedious to admit that the people around you, so very different, are so very necessary. Thank you for the comment, Trilety.