On my mind.

This:



My daughter sent it to me (via Design Mom)--read this to have a sense of the context, and of Marina Abramović's work.

I love contemplating rituals, the ways we give shape to experience by repeating gestures. Every summer seems to be a new opportunity for this, so I am also thinking about this little series on Slate about artists' rituals. (I am anxiously awaiting the next piece in the series, which will focus on artists who sleep in, and stay up, late. I want to be a morning person, especially in the summer, but I am not. I am not a morning person, despite my desire.)

Yesterday when my commitments with work were done, I went over to my daughter's house to chat with her, hold the baby, play dominoes and Bananagrams with my grandson, while she folded the laundry. And last Friday, I did the same--went over to my son's, with Creamsicles and fruit snacks, to talk to my son, my daughter-in-law, and my daughter while the children played with and around us. In a few weeks, the historian and I will go to Scotland; my youngest daughter will come home this summer, and I hope all of us will be able to go to Idaho together. All of these moments, repeated, have the feel of ritual to me.

These touch points are so important. I need more of them, just like I need the shape to my day that two walks each day, that making dinner in the evening, that reading a little before sleep give.

I am also thinking about this. I used it in my digital story, and can't get it out of my mind, or heart:

Reading the Sunday paper.

The All-Day Protocol:

8:00 a.m. Arise from slumbers. Initiate dog greetings.
8:03 a.m. Begin the day's obsessive internet checking.
8:20 a.m. Assemble Breakfast of Power--buttermilk biscuits with currants, warm beverage, small orange juice, butter and jam.
8:35 a.m. Eat Breakfast of Power whilst perusing this week's Target ad.
8:40 a.m. Organize the New York Times thusly: front section, opinion section, style section, arts section, book review, magazine. Sports, business, and travel sections optional. (This is the dutiful order: news and commentary first, play only after work is done.) Begin reading the front section. "Reading" means "scanning the pages as I turn them." Move on to opinion section.
About 9 a.m. Scotland daughter calls. (newspaper flutters closed)
About 10 a.m. Hang up phone. Where was I? Ah, opinion section. Read the opinions assiduously. Like considering the entrails of a bird or the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup.
10:30 a.m. OMG it's writing group day. Must write poem. Must. Write. Poem.
10: 35 a.m. Begin reading style section. No! Must. Write. Poem.
12:10 p.m. Ugh, draft of poem more or less ready. Finish style section.
12:30 p.m. Take shower to rid self of poem-writing sweat and pre-election worry-stench.
1:oo p.m. Go to OfficeMax to print poem. Is it excellent or is it dross? Discuss with self while driving to writing group.
5:15 p.m. Poem: reviewed. Gossip: exchanged. Writing friendships: renewed.
5:45 p.m. Home. Construct dinner. Eat dinner.
6:22 p.m. Repair to bed because the house is cold, because of the rain and because we haven't bothered to turn up the heat. Why? Take Arts section, book review, and magazine to bed.
6:23 p.m. Commence wrestling with the covers and Bruiser and pillows to get comfortable. Note to self: reading the newspaper prone in bed inefficient and uncomfortable. Finish reading requisite sections in requisite order while prone in bed, interspersed with covers and pillow adjustment.
7:30 p.m. Wash hands to get rid of newspaper ink and cover-wrestling annoyance-chafe-swelter. Turn up heat because hands are cold.
7:32 p.m. Bask in the glow of being thoroughly informed, and having executed faithfully the Sunday ritual. Also, because of the poem. Pet Bruiser and thank him for his assistance.