Monastery Mode
Worked on my riding mower all day yesterday. Took it apart. De-greased the engine, what a mess. Repaired a leaking valve cover. Replaced the air filter. Replaced the spark-plug. Changed the oil. Changed the oil filter. Started putting it back together again. I’ll fire it up this afternoon because I need to let the liquid gasket on the valve cover set up. If it holds, and I’m pretty sure it will, I’ll finish putting it back together, then put up all the tools.
Most of the day felt as though I was in what I like to call monastery mode, when I imagine I’ve taken holy orders and separated myself from the world. Partly it’s a fascination with people like St. Francis of Assisi, but mostly I think it’s me feeling sorry for myself. And I have no idea why I feel that way sometimes. It just creeps up on me. Experience has shown that the best defense is to work at something hard that takes patience and mindfulness, and working on a small engine takes both. I think organizing the work helps me organize my emotions, because when I’m done, I generally feel better. And I did yesterday.
Now I’m getting ready to play golf this morning, early to beat the heat, and then later today I’ll have dinner with a friend, and tomorrow I’ll go to Houston to hear another friend play music with more friends in tow. And that’s another key to departing monastery mode, thinking of my friends. I think about them and remember them. I count the good times we’ve had and the good times still to come. And just like that blue becomes merely a color I wear.