Peace found in a pan

Today has been a struggle.

For whatever reason, I have felt mentally fragmented all day.  I’ve been unable to concentrate on anything without significant effort; and even then I’ve felt only mildly successful.  I’ve found myself reading the same lines of text two, three, four times, trying to get the meaning to slip beyond my eyes and actually permeate my brain – and haven’t had much luck.  Engaging in conversation with friends, with strangers, with my sweetie, I just haven’t been all “there” for them today; I can feel my distraction in the midst of their sentences (and in the midst of mine) – and that sucks.  More than once today I have physically shaken my head, trying to get my brain to focus; I have squinted my eyes, trying to glean more comprehension amid the fuzz in my mind.

Nothing seems to be working.

After a day of trying to think, late this afternoon I said, “Oh, forget it”, and went to the kitchen to make a recipe.  I’ll let the piece of paper tell me what to do.

After I popped the casserole into the oven, I hand-washed the pots and bowls I used.  As I stood at the sink, focused only on the sponge, water, and suds, I finally felt a sense of gathering in my mind.  My feet felt grounded on the kitchen floor; my arms worked with my eyes to lift and move dishes; my hands enjoyed the various tactile sensations.  My mind settled to focus exclusively on the dishes.  Nothing more.  Just lift, scrub, rinse, set down.  Then repeat.

I suspect if I hand-washed dishes every day, the “thrill” of this chore would wane quickly.  But today, this task brought me a lot of comfort, and – dare I say – even joy.

Stef