Welcome to my new readers, young and brilliant! And a Happy 2012 to all of you but why don’t we have flying cars?
I’ve noticed a personal behavior that I thought I’d share. My noticing is a product of memory and aging, which currently is amusing. I hope it remains so. My application is much broader.
Yesterday, my husband lost his work cell phone. He searched in a mad Monday morning scramble, insisting that I must have moved it from the spinet, now in the entryway.
Backstory — part of the process of clearing out my parents’ house to prepare it for the next owners is gathering treasures and incorporating them into my already treasure-laden house. The melding causes some casting about (little letters), as we remove and restack that which we will keep.
“Where do the mixing bowls live now?”
“Where do we now put the little plates?”
“What happened to that BIG glass pitcher; Where is it now?”
Anyway, back to the story. It was not the way to start a Monday, especially after a long weekend, which involved moving a small grand piano up a flight of stairs as well as moving all the other furniture about to make room for the new piano. Did you wonder why the spinet was in the entryway or did you imagine piano music from the moment you enter the house?
We looked in all the normal places, the tops of flat surfaces, the bags of Goodwill items, pockets of coats, under pillows. He found it in the junk/tool drawer in the kitchen, next to the tape measure that we had used liberally over the weekend. Funny. Oh. I didn’t take it off the top of the spinet and put it there, but I’m tempted to the next time. Except I would have to leave myself an obvious note somewhere to remind me of my joke. And he wouldn’t think it’s funny.
Which leads me back to the subject . . .
I am developing two practices to make things easier to find. I feel as if I develop them now, they will serve me throughout the rest of my life. The first is to always put stuff in the same place, like parking your car in the same section of the parking lot at the grocery store — developing memory as habit. You can imagine how our housebasket turnover has messed with that practice.
The other is casting about — scanning the room, turning my gaze to look upon flat surfaces for stuff that I might have set down when something else distracted me that I still need to remember something about. It’s amazing what else I find when I do that. Oh Yeah! That. I wanted to do something about that yesterday! Oh yeah, and that. I’ll take care of that right now. Great. Now, what was I doing. Cast about. Oh yeah!
I think there’s a broader practice of Casting About (big C, big A) that’s fuel to creative practice as well. Casting about = unfocused wandering/wondering to see/absorb what is there as potential fuel, roaming without purpose; with wonder. I tell myself that’s why my house is full of visual stimulation.
I can Cast About, while casting about. But it also means that there’s loads of visual distraction. Hmm.