the measure of my days

Sitting out on my deck this morning, I began to think about my day. It feels eerily similar to yesterday. And to the day before yesterday. And the day before…

Well, you get it.

The phrase “measure of my days” came to mind. That had a familiar ring to it, and I thought I recalled a book with that title. I found the Kindle version of this 1968 book, and had a sample delivered. I thought I might find a reflection of how I measure my days.

Written by Florida Scott-Maxwell, it begins “We who are old know that age is more than a disability. It is an intense and varied experience, almost beyond our capacity at times, but something to be carried high. If it is a long defeat it is also a victory, meaningful for the initiates of time, if not for those who have come less far”.

Clearly not a reflection of my days! After all, I am oldering, not old! I’m one of those “who have come less far”. Still, Scott-Maxwell is correct when she says “It (old-ering) is an intense and varied experience…”. Well, yes, it is that – and more. Perhaps her words will lead to further examination, but not in this blog.

While that remembered phrase did not lead down a Google path to a good fit for an examination of my days, it does serve as an anchor for this blog.

What then, is the measure of my days during this pandemic?

As a place to begin, my days are first measured by how long I spend sitting on my deck each morning.

My soul is quieted in this place. I’m often there until noon. It’s true! Aside from a weekly appointment, I don’t necessarily have to be anywhere.

Just about all my tasks can be done from home through technology. Zoom meetings. Website design and upkeep. Communications. Shopping. Making donations to groups who serve the least among us, especially in this time of extraordinary need. And more.

I have settled into a time of sitting.

The best sitting is the morning deck sit.

Coffee.

Reading

Listening

Pondering

Conversing

Eventually I move from the deck to the porch to sit. Not just sit, rather, ride.

A stationary bike I ordered some months ago finally arrived. All this deck sitting means I best be seated, and riding, or my legs might fall out from under me. That’s an old saying, the origin of which I can’t find, but it certainly fits my circumstances. The bike has a custom designed iPhone holder so I can listen to favorite podcasts. Thanks, Evan.

I also sit on the porch for the weekly St. James lectionary study.

What does all this time of sitting mean? In this time of pandemic, it feels like a giant pause in our lives. In my life. Kind of  forced sitting it out.

A season of rest, work, exercise, study all while seated. Being still, healing and engaging with the world while seated. Conversations because there is time to sit and talk.

If I’d not had this time of imposed seating, would I have been as well rested and nourished?

A friend and I spoke last week, and ended our conversation with something like, “we don’t want to come out of this having wasted time”. My reaction at first was I better get-to-getting so I haven’t wasted time.

After considering the measure of my days, this does not feel like time wasted.

Okay, I’m nourished, now where’s the nearest airport? I’m in need of that chair seat in the sky!