Filters are important in most monastic endeavors. Selectively permitting the passage of information, and selectively permitting the information to be of impact. A matter of scale in the importance of the information and the importance of the solitary’s response to it need be measured.
I wrote earlier about the mouse in my car. After I hastily removed and then replaced its nest, I needed to get my car serviced overnight, and then lent the vehicle to my son. This common little rodent, who has been pissing and shitting in cumulatively minor, but odiferous quantities, has occupied my sphere of concern. After all, it wasn’t the mouse’s fault that it got caught up in a swanky mobile habitat that it couldn’t comprehend.
A 50lb sack of peanuts came from the post office and was left in my car overnight out of forgetfulness for a few days. When I remembered, I rushed to the car hoping to find the typical mess of shredded detritus, and this time accompanied by red papery peanut skins. But, no. The bag was unopened, and there was no evidence of a mouse party. My heart sank. I lugged the sack of peanuts in and wondered if the mouse had found safe accommodations at the car dealership or my son’s new place. We had had cold nights, would he find food or be doomed to a horrible sticky trap?
Last night, in a final act of hope, I set a small dish of peanut butter and seeds in the car. If mousey was in there, I’d see evidence.
I tucked myself in and my mind wandered to my miserably runny sinuses, the pandemic, and making room for myself among the dogs in my bed.
Morning came with notifications work that needed to be done, and I had to busy myself, forgetting to check the seeds. And then there was an attempted coup a few hours away, where there was nothing I could do or say to influence its course.
But while I followed the information stream online, flatly wondering why anyone would have expected less, I remembered to check the seed dish.
Success! Some hulled seeds, and little marks in the peanut butter. The mouse had stayed safe with the car, survived unknown turf many hours on the road, car lifts, axle changes, and hauls of my son’s boxes of socks, books, and amplifiers. With this in mind, I was able to savor some joy about the part of the world that I have meaningful impact upon, and not be overwhelmed with the chaos of the present state. I imagined mousey sitting in the moonlit car, patiently licking the unanticipated bounty of peanut butter off the roof of its mouth. This is monasticism at work: keeping the emotional impacts of the loud societal chaos at bay so that joy can be found, sometimes in surprisingly small places.
In the spring, hopefully before mousey breeds in there, I will work harder to relocate them in the forest. For now, when the nights can be bitter cold, mousey can have its cozy home under the cargo tray, keeping watch over the car until Spring, when I’ll take over.
Oh, and looks like the coup failed. Bonus!