Early training tells. I grew up in Alberta, so when I see a spitter-spatter of rain on the early-morning pavement I step out onto the sheltered porch, expecting the air to feel less oppressive, temp-and-humidity-wise, than it has for several weeks.
Nope.
Early training is not all. I’ve lived in Ottawa for more than 20 years, so when I see a full-fledged scatter of rain on the early-morning pavement I step out onto the sheltered porch again, hoping the air will feel less oppressive than it has for several weeks.
Nope.
Ten minutes later I see completely wet pavement and water running in the gutters. As expectation jostles hope–You’re a wimp! Oh yeah, well you’re entitled!–I step out onto the sheltered porch, carefully expecting nothing, determinedly hoping for nothing. Both of you be quiet! Just a curious but dispassionate bystander, I am merely wondering whether there will be any freshening of air that for several weeks has been as the dry blast from an opened oven door, when the air deigned to move at all.
Yes. Yes! The air is soft and cool and smells like rain.
At my age I have a lot of what we now call lived experience, so of course I have expectations for how things should be. At my age, I would also like things to be as-I-expect-them-to-be pretty darn soon, thank you. Day to day, though, I’m happier when I can live in hope rather than expectation. When I can remember that nope might just mean not yet.
I can appreciate your desire for freshness first hand just now. Full rain this morning is refreshing, but makes it hard to relax in my brother’s back yard. Good that’s not what we are doing today. “Nope” does mean, not just now, as any persistent toddler knows.
Judith – 🙂 I hadn’t thought of the toddler angle, but you’re exactly right: they are hope personified. Enjoy your visit.
It’s hard — I haven’t achieved it — but to live without expectations (hope is a more long-term thing) and to accept just What Is, would be a contented Zen state be in? Or just annoying for everybody around you?
Barbara – 🙂 Well, if the people around us have not (yet) attained our Zen level . . .
John has — never complains — but he called it “enduring” the other day. Easy to live with I must say. But then he’s British and they are groomed from day one to celebrate discomfort.
🙂 Enduring leads to (being) endearing? Nice.
This is the opposite of what you expect, but I recall the saying: Blessed is the one who expects nothing for he will never be disappointed.
Tom
Tom – For sure there’s something to that saying, whether it’s taken at face value or as a wee joke.
On the subject of hope, today, a PSW commented to me, “I have seen people just like Alex (i.e., in his aphasic and almost paraplegic condition) graduate out of here (the medical floor) to the rehab floor and walk out of here (the hospital).” These words are the most hopeful I have heard yet from anyone in that hospital. And they came from an experienced worker. The small changes I have seen, which I think have been supported by Focused Listening, are not the only things working in his favor in that place. So good to hear!
Laurna – That is fabulous news. I bless the nurses and other staff at our hospitals: they kept me sane during our recent turmoil. When I steeled myself to ask The Question (Have you seen people recover well from this state?), the positive answer was thoughtful – and valid, as it turned out. May it be so for Alex as well.
I am so glad to hear that about the Big Guy. And Amen.
🙂
Christine and I were at the 167th anniversary of the discovery of gold at what is now Barkerville, by Billy Barker, which launched the B.C. gold rush of 1858. Christine lives just five miles from the discovery of gold at Sutter’s Mill, in California, in 1849, where the miners panned gold in 100 degree temperatures. In Barkerville, the winter months were the most lucrative, because the muddy valley bottom froze hard enough that miners could dig down 40 feet to bedrock, to the gold that had settled out in some million year old stream. The contrast between the two styles of seeking gold impressed her.
Anyway, that was preamble to telling about a thunderstorm that broke overhead in the middle of the afternoon. At 4200 feet elevation, it did more than cool and freshen the air. It was, bluntly, perishing cold all of a sudden. It did more than clear the air — it cleared the streets!
Jim T – Digging 40 feet through frozen muck? And I thought my job was tough. Ha! As for the thunderstorm’s effects – that’s about what I was used to in Alberta for any rainstorm. It took coming to Ontario for me to learn how different it could be.