This is a life lesson in the zen practice of observing before reacting. It brings amazing peace and a feeling of wellbeing.
My beloved is a divine creation but recently we have been butting heads about the fact that I do all the emotional labour for the family while he gets on with things. I am the one who arranges the shopping, organises our life, remembers birthdays. All the jazz that keeping life ticking over. He is supportive and willing to help but habits are hard to break.
Last night we were arranging the online food shop. As we do every Tuesday. It is a fraught task with questions such as “what do you want to eat next week?” and “do we have enough spuds?” causing a breakdown in communications that require a UN intervention and blokes in blue berets marching in.
While going through this usual hellish ritual, the darling husband suggested that I should schedule this task regularly so he was prepared for it. That is right. I was supposed to schedule a WEEKLY task so he was ready when the tough “do we need bog roll?” questions were asked. A WEEKLY TASK.
This is where the zen comes in. Rather than exploding with an expletive-ridden question of “you what?” I simply sipped my tea and went for a mild eyebrow raise. Only a mild one. I am so glad I did. If I had pointed out the obvious problem with his request in the forceful tones I am used to using I would have been robbed of watching the light slowly dawn for him.
“We do this every Tuesday,” he said. I sipped more tea. “Because it gets delivered on a Wednesday”. Yup! There we go he got it! “So you need to remind me to think about this before Tuesday” (he was quite pleased with this). More tea is supped and the eyebrow moves slightly higher. Then it happens. The clouds part, the trumpets sound, heavenly light floods the room… “or I could put a reminder on my phone”. I am hearing angels sing. I concentrate on my tea. He’s hit a winning streak. My beloved tells me that we can meal plan and work out what we want to eat.
He wanders into the dining room. “Hey,” the shout comes “there are loads of cookbooks in here. I can look through them to see if there’s anything I fancy”. And it has happened, my beloved husband has finally discovered the forty or more cookbooks that line the walls of our dining room as they have for the last three years. I place my eyebrow into neutral and finish my tea.