It was an out of sorts day. His wife was away and a carefully planned schedule of caregivers, meals, and tasks was laid out on the breakfast table. I took a seat and greeted he and Amy, catching up on how his night had gone and what the day looked like. I was to stay through lunch, which the next caregiver would prepare when she arrived. Once he was cleaned up and put to bed for his afternoon nap, I expected I would leave and head to the store.
It had not been an easy night, according to Amy. She had been up with him at odd hours and he was confused. This morning he silently picked at his yogurt with fresh blueberries as his perfectly cooked, soft-boiled egg cooled in its egg cup. Two slabs of crusty rye toast sat off to the side. Though he greeted me with a smile, I watched as all his intention was focused on raising the spoon to his lips.
When Amy left, we sat and I scooped the now cooled egg onto his plate. He chased bits around sighing when the pain racked his body. I picked up a calendar from the pile of catalogs and correspondence by his wife’s chair. It was open to August, charting the phases of the moon and planets throughout the month, giving the ideal times for planting, transplanting, harvesting and bee keeping. I rifled through it to the beginning where the cryptic symbols were explained, along with the theory of how the magnetism of the earth and universe hold an indelible effect on all life.
As I read aloud to him, he dozed, toast in one hand, butter knife in the other. He was just out of sorts. I looked around the breakfast room; the heart of the house. Photos and cards line the chair rail and paintings are strewn with careful abandon. Strings cobwebbed around the corners where, soon, herbs from the kitchen garden will festoon the edges of the room, adding their own sweet pungency as they dry. The energy of the room enfolded me.
As an innocent college student I drank from the goblet of all things philosophical and envisioned life was a broad tapestry that I could unravel.
I have marched through the years insulating myself from that curiosity; layering on armor against the most primal energy. I have read other’s theories on living with an awareness of nature. It makes sense that ancient people, who were not bombarded with electronic waves of technology, watched the changes around them and followed suit to tune their lives into the cosmic forces. If one wishes to see it as Earthing or as Anthroposophy, or paganism, the name is really insignificant. Spirituality is where you find it. I was brought up in a Catholic/Christian Science home. I figure the “answer” is what makes the most sense to me at this point.
He awoke with a start, looked at the toast and knife in his hands. It was eleven o’clock and the lunch preparations would begin soon. “Let’s retire to your chair for a snooze, shall we?” I winked.
He set his jaw and looked far away, “It’s a tired day.” The energy was going to rule the day and no amount of scheduling would change the outcome.