There’s Darla waiting on Dottie to lay her egg and make the nest available. This is what the hens do. They pick out a nest and deem it “the one” for awhile, meanwhile leaving five others empty. There is absolutely no reason in the world that I can see for Darla to not lay her egg in that nest she’s standing in. It’s clean and ready.
I say “that I can see” because I am sure there is good reason for hens to lay in the same nest and I think it may be so that if one hen goes broody, she’ll be sitting on the eggs of other hens- thus ensuring a stronger and more varied flock. It’s extremely hard on a hen to sit on eggs for three weeks with hardly any breaks for food and water and it’s far more efficient for one hen to do the work rather than the entire flock. And that way, the other hens continue to lay which the broody hen does not. She uses every bit of her energy to sit and incubate and then to raise the chicks.
I think this is all fascinating unlike my day which was pretty dang boring. On one level, at least.
I read a story in the New Yorker today (“The Loop” by J. Robert Lennon) and although it wasn’t my favorite short story I’ve ever read, it gave me a little something to chew on. In the story a sort of “Groundhog Day” thing occurs and the protagonist is doomed to find herself repeating the same Saturday over and over with no ability to change one detail. She decides that perhaps the only way to escape this loop is to observe and notice something she was supposed to see “...before she would be freed to finish her life, to experience newness every second until death. That’s what had been taken from her- the absolute pristine uniqueness of each boring moment of existence.”
Like a person who has just smoked his or her first joint and is suddenly thinking about the very cosmos in new and different ways, sometimes our minds can get a little blown by nothing more than a changed perspective and that is what those two lines gave me today.
No matter how routine a day may be, each and every moment is absolutely new and unique.
So I’m tucking that into my pocket and pondering it. Even though everything I did today is something I’ve done a thousand or more times, there are infinite ways that each act was different from all of the rest. And I suppose that if we pay attention, despite the seeming repitition of those acts it will lead to a sort of mindfulness.
And whether or not that has any benefit at all is not for me to determine. I ain’t no Marianne Williamson or David Avocado Wolfe.
I’m just me.
Typing away on my little phone.
Okay. Well, there’s your nugget of the glaringly obvious for today.
Time to go make supper.