When I was growing up, no one ever conceived of sitting a child down for a “time-out.” Instead, when my behavior did not match the ideal my parents and teachers held dear, I was spanked, slapped or scolded. Only on rare occasions did I endure the timeout’s cousin, the go-sit-in-a-corner. A youngster in time-out gets to sit in a designated spot and contemplate his or her actions. Sitting still in church and keeping my mind occupied during the long sermon at age five or six was about as close to a time-out as I my experience with punishment regularly came. I remember shifting my butt from side to side, swinging my legs vigorously back and forth, rustling and folding whatever papers I managed to remember to bring from Sunday School. If I fidgeted too much, my father or mother would grab my wrist take me out back of the church and swat my bottom a time or two. I never could understand how that would make me more calm.
Adults now call this activity of sitting still and contemplating one's miniscule place in the world “meditation.” Some consider it a privilege and even a necessity. I have, in fact, taken up meditating about 10 minutes a day in hopes it will keep me calm during my period of writing thank you notes to people who supported me during my campaign and while I suck up my pride and do some data entry in hopes of future contact with people I don’t even know who gave me money. Rather than dwell on my sins of losing, I concentrate on my breathing. As an adult, I find time counting my breath soothing, but I undertake it with a sense of irony. When I was younger, I probably would have considered it punishing.
Not all former punishments are now pleasures. Some former pleasures have become more punishing. Most of my life, I would stay up till nearly dawn reading any book I found at all engaging. My parents, I am sure, grew weary of scolding me when they woke up in the middle of the night and staggered down the hall. Sometimes, they would detour past my room to check to see if a light came from under my door. Odd to think of it now, but no one ever spanked me for reading too much. I suppose a book-work girl is less embarrassing to a parent than a restless one. But, now when I try to read near bedtime, I fall asleep quickly. My sleepiness puzzles me. Is it due to biological changes of my brain slowing down and my responsibilities mounting? Or am I falling asleep because my mind and life are so much more complex than they were in my youth that stories that once held my interest now bore me and fail to hold my attention.
Perhaps my tastes are just more discriminating now that I’ve piled up a few experiences. Some evidence that my palate is more refined became clear a couple nights ago when my spouse and I went to our favorite restaurant. I ordered a steak medium rare. When the waitress delivered it, she wanted me to cut into it to see if it was cooked to my satisfaction. I cut it in half and noticed that it was well done.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “I’ll eat it anyway.”
After four or five bites, disgust overcame me and I stopped eating it. I remarked to my husband that it was too late to send it back and that when I was in my twenties, I would not have noticed how a steak was cooked. Any steak would have been delicious to me. I choked down a few more bites and told myself that I will never accept a well-done steak again. Even as I thought this, I marveled that I have become a sort of person who cares about such things, or even notices them.
Are these changes due to finally knowing myself and my body well enough that I have actually formed opinions and habits? Or are the changes more sinister? For now, I will stick with the idea that I just know what I like better than I once did, that I am able to articulate fine-grained differences in sensual experience that would even have eluded my perception as a younger person. That is to say, that I’m not feeling more aches and pains, I merely know my body well enough to notice them more. Yes, that must be it! For instance, heavy books now make my back hurt when I prop them on my chest. It must always have been so, but I just didn't notice before. So, I'll buy just a book holder.Three cheers for being both wiser and older!
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