Our Autumn

Continued my Quiet Day today to complete the 24 hours.

Housework, colouring my mandala, MOOCking.  The television has not been turned on.  I actually never turn it on when AW is away, even when I'm not practicing meditation.  There is just too much noise on screen.  Of course, not 'hearing' the news doesn't mean there isn't any news.  It only means there's much less to upset 'the moment'.  It also doesn't mean I'm not concerned.  It's just that quiet time is me-time.  That said, it's always possible to have quiet me-time even when I'm doing other things.  Shooting windmills is one such time.  So is colouring in my book.  So is ironing.

AW returned past 19.00.  I thought he'd already had dinner at another friend's house as he'd said he had to pass by there on the way back.  Turns out 'no'.  I'd already cleaned up in the kitchen but never mind.  He feasted on the remaining saucijsje broodjes (literally 'sausage bread', which aren't sandwiches, to be clear) and I made him tea.  He had a good weekend, and so did I.

Next week, something is going to happen in a country far away from here.  I had hoped to resolve my own case before this event.  However, hoping and actually getting what one hoped for have always been two different things.  Sometimes they coincide but more often they do not.  I have decided to continue my focus on my own issues.  The event, though, will impact EU policies in general, and Dutch government policy in particular, something I've never really liked but which I've understood to be inevitable.  In the open arena of the big, wide world, no country or continent can ever have 'one mindful quiet day' by itself but must always be alert as to what its neighbours near and far are up to, and some of that vigilance has trickled down to me.  I can choose to fold this into my practice and observe how I deal with it.  I can also choose to view it as a kind of disruption.  Lately, it has been the latter, unfortunately.