There is no time to waist, and much to do and buy. Everything less than great is not acceptable and success is the only word we learn to spell. This thought is floating in many blogs, the feeling of living insanely fast and precariously, jumping from day to day, post to post, picture to picture, book to book, without the needed appreciation of the moment, the balancing and healing introspection about our purpose in life.
Years ago I read Listening to Prozac, and it was for me the pleasure of listening to Peter D. Kramer, the author, a very interesting individual who listens to many others and to himself. I benefited much from his observations and extrapolations of his numerous experiences with his patients to society. We want to be what the media (TV, magazines, games, advertisement) have told us we should be. If you don’t know to what extent our life is influenced by advertisement and publicity, read Deadly Persuasion. Kilbourne’s compilation of ads through the years and her analysis of how the media has been shaping how we think, who we want to be, and how they have perverted specially the figure of what an acceptable woman is will have you reading and nodding in acquiescence from beginning to end. Always young, pretty, important, rich, popular, if we work we have to be successful business people, if we stay home, we have to cook like chefs, or decorate like professionals, if we educate at home, we have to raise gifted children, do, get, blog about it…
Virtual reality is PROZAIC, there is no place for feeling down, for healthy desires of doing nothing, of not being productive. Our new cameras and editors are life botox, and many times we give the impression of being someone we are not, and some days I like that ‘not me’ type of girl.
I don’t know what Prozac does to you firsthand, but many days while I’m doing the dishes I dream about how life will be if I took one of those pills. I guess I won’t have to stop and pray, and control my first impulse of yelling at the girls for dropping a jar of capers that leave a vinegar aroma in a just mopped kitchen floor unless you mop again.
May comes then, and I look through the window as I’m doing the dishes, I don’t dream of a pill today, I listen to the birds, look at our backyard, our little things that we have planted that are not substantial but yet they are essential to our home. Today I think about all those who want to close their blogs or stop writing and I think I’ll stop too. But I can’t, I need to communicate, I have to talk. I just have to keep balancing my prosaic life and reclaim its right to exist in this prozaic times.
Prosaic synonyms are: ordinary, everyday; vapid, humdrum, tedious, tiresome, uninteresting. In a way, all these words sound very ‘poetic’ to me as well. Look under their skin and you’ll be surprised. My mother in law lives in Malta. Her kitchen is small and homey. She has a sink where the hot water is difficult to regulate, the flow and pressure are not as great as we enjoy it here in the States. They don’t have a grinder and the sink is facing a wall. She has a small mirror hanging on the wall. My mother in law is tall in her convictions, short only in size. One day she asked me if I knew why she had a mirror there in that odd place, if I thought it was vanity the reason. I really never thought about it, I always rush through the dishes. Then she said that if I lowered myself to look at the mirror, I’ll see the ocean…and it was TRUE. Don’t ask me how, in the second floor of a block in the middle of many other blocks where she lives, if you look at a mirror on a wall you’ll see the ocean! She told me to try to look at every insignificant and boring thing in life as a new and unique thing that will never repeat exactly the same. My mother in law knows what Heraclitus talked about many years ago, that you cannot step twice into the same river.
(The first picture is by our main road. All around we are blessed this May with these amazing yellow flowers that cover the loans completely. Every day we pass by is a different view of the same beauty).