I joined the Summer School quarterly get together yesterday afternoon. I came to it bothered. Was it a leftover from what I was doing in the morning or was it just how I was feeling? I had listened to Timothy Gianotti share with us an Islamic perspective on prayer and engaged in the Bibliodrama on the Rumi story of Moses and the Shepherd. It was somewhere towards the end of the Bibliodrama that my computer froze. I do so much zoom that I am used to this occurrence so much so that I just wait. It did was it does, shut itself down. The difference this time is didn’t wake back up.
I kept pressing that button but nothing happened. “I can’t believe this! First, the washing machine goes and now my Chrome notebook!” I did manage to rejoin the others via my phone. But I was distracted there are too many things not working.
I couldn’t leave it I had to go back again and again press the same button and get the same result. My inner voice told me to leave it, go for a walk. Eventually, I did.
I woke up early this morning and I was so nervous. Nervous about what? The washing machine is due to today. ‘My nerves’ go through every scenario,
Will they turn up?
Will they be happy to lift it up the stairs?
Will they install?
Will they take the old one away?
Will it fit through the door?
Will it work?
I observe this and ask myself, “How come my body reacts to what is a part of life, machines fail and need to be replaced?”
It seems something in me seems loss without these things. Whatever that something is it has grown so dependant on these things that it is almost like breaking an addiction.
There is death in there somewhere causing me to wonder whether somehow my brain’s wiring got plugged into the wrong hole causing it to get more upset about the lost of a machine than a person.
I talk to myself, “ This is crazy but I have to let the body do what it is doing, how can I stop it anyway?”
Is it childhood fears of abandonment , being alone having no one to draw on. The failure of the machines somehow connects me to my aloneness as a child.
I step through it as I have learned to do over the years. A level of normality surfaces. There is stuff to do so I better get to it.
The phone rings at 11 15 am. They will be here in ‘15’ with the new machine. I have never met these people and here they are coming into my private space, that somehow makes me nervous too. They come and they are two ordinary blokes who do their job and leave me with a new machine. I ask, “Well who did I think was coming? Norman Bates?”
The mind is now having its turn and it is exercising its fears of the past, of unknown people who may kill you. Dramatic I know but real in some places of the world.
I haven’t a clue what all this is about but I am glad I found a place where others who understand this stuff help break down the aloneness of it.