patterns . . .
How do patterns change? Are we creatures of habit all our lives? I know people who have eaten the same breakfast for over fifty years. I’m not one of them. I like to change it up with freshly blended smoothies sometimes. Soft-boiled eggs from the farm with a little dab of oyster sauce like my Dad used to have. Sometimes, the fat side of those big sandwich size Thomas’s English muffins, toasted crisp with sweet butter and some Rose’s orange marmalade. You can see I’m picky about the brands that I use. Those are some of my patterns.
What about patterns that are petty, dumb and that are aggravating? Like noticing when someone takes the best slices of the tomato and leaves you the ends. Or, wanting time and attention when things are going crazy with other important stuff but you’re feeling miffed and neglected all the same? I know someone whose end of the day drink is always Campari and soda with ice clinking in the glass. I used to be a dry martini on the rocks drinker when I was working 90 hours a week but not anymore. All we can manage these days is to split a can of Miller Lite beer poured into frosty glasses from the freezer where the beer also chills until we’re ready to sit down for dinner.
I’ve been noticing that I don’t like some of my patterns that are throwbacks to when I was a kid and was either scared or unhappy. I’m neither scared nor unhappy now but it’s hard to let go of those patterns of feeling that way anyhow. What a dumb thing that is, isn’t it? That’s one pattern that needs to go, pronto.