That’s What This Storm’s All About
I make my overnight oats like this. First I get out this sauerkraut jar that we’ve washed and re-washed. It’s got a good screwtop cap, it’s just the right size for what I need and I like the fact that it’s not plastic. So I measure out a half cup of rolled oats and pour it in. Then I add a tablespoon or so of chia seeds, a half cup of soy milk and a banana that I squish up with a fork in a plastic bowl. I put it all into the jar and I stir it up with the same fork used to mash the banana. At the very end I throw in some frozen blueberries and maybe some frozen peaches and then I put it in the fridge to let it sit until the morning (hence the clever name “overnight” oats).
Last night when I was making it, I noticed how appreciative I was of this simple task that I know so well and that I don’t have to think about. There’s joy in such simple tasks, along the lines of the Zen saying “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” I’m an oatmeal guy. I like it hot during the cold months and I’ve been enjoying this version in the warmer months, but a lot of this is about the ritual and the discipline. This, at least, is something I can control in these uncertain times.
I do a lot of other things to get ready for work too, especially when I’m starting early. I have this whole layout on the kitchen table. I have a series of masks that I can pick from. There are sartorial considerations, but functionality is the first concern. I can’t really wear the ones with the ear loops because of my hearing aids. I also wear glasses and I don’t have enough real estate behind my ears to accommodate anything else. So I opt for ones that go behind your neck in and up around the crown of your head. I have a couple that are the tie ones and a couple that are elasticized. They both have their advantages and disadvantages.
Then I also have the little case that has the sunglass clip ons that fit my glasses. I have an elastic band around it now because it doesn’t snap shut on its own anymore, because I’ve used it so much. I’ve laid out my book of the day. Right now it’s Pigeon Feathers, the John Updike collection. I have my little bamboo reusable utensils. It’s just a spoon and a fork because I don’t really need the chopsticks and the knife that came with it. I have my keys, including the padlock and single key that I put on my locker at work. I have my backpack in which I carry all this.
I have to think about my hearing aids. I always put in fresh ones on days I’m going to be on cash register, like today, because I don’t want to have to deal with the possibility of changing batteries when there could be a long line of people. I made the coffee last night. There’s that friendly ritual of getting out the paper filter, filling the kettle, setting up the mugs for the morning, and putting in the correct number of scoops for seriously dark brew.
There’s a storm out there. We need all the tricks we can use, but as Haruki Murakami said, “When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
