I apologize to butterflies everywhere. They are awesome creatures who change the world. Sorry.
Not that I’ve ever scoffed at the idea that little changes can make huge differences. It’s just seemed theoretical. I’ve never been a person with patience. I want big, spectacular change. Now please.
The last few months, though, have been uncertain. Lots of uncertainty, and none of that having to do with the headline uncertainty we see now. So double uncertainty. And fear, and worry.
So, as I noted before, I’ve found myself doing little routines. Little To Do lists sit on my desktop calendar. I clean the bathroom every Tuesday because the bathroom will not clean itself, because it will not be cleaned by the people I live with, who are either too busy (Julie) or too unaware (John), and because bathrooms should be cleaned. But also because it helps make my life seem manageable. It would be just as clean if I did this on Monday, but Tuesdays are for bathroom stuff.
Thursday is laundry. And so on.
I understand all of this. Routines help, habits help. They eliminate some chaos. And they add up, sometimes (not the bathroom; that resets pretty quickly, I’ve learned).
My little adventures with exercise have changed me. The other day, with some sunshine and time on my hands, I walked to the beach and back. The beach is about 3 miles away, which makes it a decent hike. The beach is, also, apparently at sea level or thereabouts.
My house is not at sea level. My house is, actually, at a fairly high elevation for this portion of the county. So getting to the beach was fun and getting home was interesting, but also fun, considering I couldn’t have hoped, imagined or dreamed of such a walk a couple of years ago. So I’m better now with the walking thing.
But it’s the push-ups. No question. Doing these dumb push-ups has somehow changed me, I think. Yeah, it could be spring. It could be mental illness. It could be somewhere in between.
I don’t want to sit still, though. I don’t want to sit in front of the computer or watch movies or let my mind wander. John has stopped hanging out here in this little den with me because he says I’m not in here as much anymore. I’m not, either.
Funny. This little routine, this little bit of minimal exercise, calisthenics really, a marginal exercise with a benefit mostly, as far as I can tell, of being able to do more push-ups, seems to have pepped me up.
And yesterday, as I was sitting in the waiting room, about to get a haircut, my eyes were drawn to the carpet at my feet. Nice carpet. A nice, wide floor space. Perfect for push-ups.
I’m not sure what the reaction would have been from a hair salon full of ladies at the image of a middle-aged man suddenly dropping to the floor and pumping out 20 good form push-ups. I’m pretty sure, actually.
But I was thinking it. And thinking that push-ups are the new butterflies. One here and there, over time, and pretty soon we’re talking something, dunno, different.