Nothingness

An unusually sunny Aberdeen

Just a quick recounting of the greatest moments during this week about to finish: the endorphins after a spinning class at seven in the morning, the exquisite calm inhabited during meditation, a book talk, a novel with a very loose plot but intellectually gripping, a slice of warm buttered bread on an empty stomach, snow on Edinburgh Castle, a goodnight kiss, a carafe of Spanish white shared with a friend along with a bowl of plump olives, a juicy chicken leg with roast potatoes, an unexpectedly good film, the simplest salad: kale, olive oil and pecan nuts, the view from the Forth Bridge as leaving Edinburgh, an unusually sunny Aberdeen, or the novel my partner gave me on a cheesy day marked on Google calendar. 

I made this list to remind myself that the greatest moments of joy seem to be happening more often I’m/we’re used to noticing. For some, however, those trifles aren’t enough, and they need to reshuffle their full cabinet to calm their stirred heart. I’m not sure if I feel more anger because of Boris or more sorrow. Do I need to pick one? More than an abuse of power, this reshuffle is the desperate necessity to do something with that power. To exert it no matter what, to prove its existence like a child who cannot help boasting that his Christmas toy is the most expensive one in the playground.

In the meantime, the rest of us are obliged to survive with much more prosaic achievements. What a nothingness we have to live with! What peace we can enjoy with plenty of activities; all of them, by the way, available for repetition.