fulcrums

mondays, what can i say. the mountains of laundry have piled up. the dishes await washing, the stairs climbing. i get tired of it sometimes.

yesterday as i sat in church watching the fraction, i kept thinking of the quotidian mysteries. the essential mundane. the things we do daily that keep us firmly grounded in the present moment.

i think i'm addicted to coffee, and you really don't want to be around me unless i'm in the process of ingesting it or have ingested copious amounts of it. what can i say, i love it. so i'm taking my piping hot cup out of the microwave (my hubby had made it for me when i got up the first time this morning, but i went back to bed), so i reheated it.

my girl backed into me and i burned my hand. but didn't drop my cup and shatter it (which is good because it is my favorite cup and she was standing right beside me and all i need is the guilt of burning the child a second time).

guilt can leap upon a mother (anyone i'm sure) unaware. it lurks in the corners and on rooftops waiting for the right moment.

so i scream out in pain, and try to put the cup down so i can run cool water over my hand. i cuss a few times, and she takes off crying. great. what a way to start the morning. and i just got up. why did i get up today?

because it's monday. and the essential mundane requires it. life requires we check in. but i'm all ready fuming and steaming up and down the stairs to the laundry, it is four flights i'm climbing to put things in and out. the temperature has gone up since this weekend and i get homicidally hot. so i'll stay away from people today. my poor husband, he'll have to come home and deal with me. but i earned a few points yesterday.

some of the reading i've been doing says when we create, when we do good, when we dwell in light, there must be a price payed to shadow. i guess mondays are my shadow days. i get angry. i deal with that anger contemplatively washing dishes. i dance a bit in the kitchen. i fume a bit in my mind for a while as i trudge up and down for the millionth time.

around four, i'll be done with everything, but it is only 11, and i've just begun. the fulcrum point, is the triangle upholding the seesaw. the darkness and light in balance at the fulcrum point. too much extreme one way or another and the whole thing topples over. too good, one becomes a legalist. too bad, one falls into shadow. i am trying to find my fulcrum point this day. to balance upon the scale and not frighten the little children, or offend the old ladies. but be at peace. to rest upon the fulcrum. that is the task of today.