Accepting What I Can Do

I finally finished writing a few words after weeks of being stymied. I was trying to say something profound about “All men (and women) being created equal” and ran into one wall after another. Seems that the world is run riot with one group and another thinking they’re equal but you’re not. Truly we now seem to be in a  brave new world where some people are more equal than others. Lots of wars being fought around the globe where that might be one of the root causes of the conflict.

But I saw some light and realized I would be better off sticking to the little shit more appropriate to a little guy – the bits and pieces that I could handle. Like trying to be kinder, not so snarly around the house. And when I was out for a walk, not to curse all the litter but get off my high horse and bend over to pick up a piece or two. Nothing new, been saying that for years. Just lost focus in the fray maybe thinking I was some kind of General rather than a Private. Home alone because of COVID I forgot that I was a grunt and when I thought about it, a very good grunt.

But as I was typing the cover letter to Mike W, my editor, by way of apology for dropping out, I wrote something like, “Sorry, it’s been a while. I must have been waiting for a miracle to happen.” It was like a ZEN moment for me. Duh, waiting for a miracle to happen? Who would have thunk it? And what kind of miracle was I hoping for anyhow?

If someone asked me when I was a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up I’d answer, “Six foot tall with blond hair and blue eyes.” Stupid. I topped at almost 5’10” – now shrinking to 5’8”, gray with a few hints of brown hair left & not much of that,. My eyes are still hazel if I dress up the plain brown. I guess that miracle didn’t happen; don’t think it will any time soon either.

Kind of another reminder to get off my butt after COVID (I’m going for another booster any day – I’m 82 and &*&^-all if I’m going to take chances) so I need to get out and do some of the little things.

Got some easier ones close to home. Barely touched the yard. Weeds everywhere. I’ll have to pace myself – most an hour or 90 minutes/day. Nothing wrong with that. There’s a long privet hedge. I used to do it in one pass; now best in three sections. But I’m getting old enough to learn humility and not overreach. I’ve gotten it done in the past. Can probably keep going. If not, I’ll smile and get help. Plenty of kids in the neighborhood.

So maybe that miracle is happening. I’ve started to do a better job of accepting what I can reasonably do, beginning to do the small things slowly, and remembering every now and then when I’m out for a short walk to bend over and pick up a piece of litter. And being freer with a smile and a friendly wave of the hand while I’m at it – all of this is a large miracle when you stop to think about it.

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Ken was a Professor of Mathematics, a ceramicist, a welder, and an IBMer until downsized in 2000. He taught yoga until COVID-19 decided otherwise. He continues writing, living with his wife and beagle in Shorewood, Wisconsin. He enjoys chamber music and mysteries. He’s a homebrewer and runs whitewater rivers. Ken is a writer and his literary works can be found at https://www.kmkbooks.com/

He welcomes feedback on his articles and can be reached at havokjournal@havokmedia.com.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.