Because I own neither an x-ray machine nor a xylophone, this post will deviate slightly from the norm and go with sound over spelling for its subject – a one-time exemption from the rule.
Sharing space with pets mandates rules and routines, some semblance of a schedule, but here at Four Sticks Farm our timetable is built with a bit of flexibility, to foster reassurance yet recognize real life.
The horses come into their stalls for a 4-hour snack-and-snooze at about noon, except when a big event interferes, in which case they eat their supplements al fresco, under the barn shelter, with an extended pasture period to compensate for the loss of naptime in front of a fan.
When we hike, I let Rowdy stop and smell the roses, the dandelions, the tall grasses and the tree trunks, until we’re swarmed by biting bugs and Fitbit announces we’re on pace to complete a 60 minute mile, at which time the Happy Hooligan has to pick up his nose, put down his leg, and deal with the fact that he does not, in fact, get to claim every shrub and sapling within the park perimeter.
Fennel and Mace get to graze from their dishes in the shop at their leisure, except during the implementation of Operation Raccoon Raid Resistance, at which time chow is available only in the presence of authorized personnel.
We all adjust, for the good of the order.
A recent vacation reminded me that airports are full of exceptions to my way of thinking – the contemporary dress code that accepts some pretty remarkable anatomy exposure (I guess when the top is that tight you don’t actually need a bra), the modern mode of speakerphone and videochat (I wonder if Paula picked the muted floral bedspread or the gingham reversible comforter set), and the assumption that a stranger will give up their aisle seat for your middle seat so you can sit by your child, which happened on two of my four flights, once to me, once to a guy who ended up in the middle seat next to me.
In my case, the woman had already made my decision and was comfortably settled in my aisle seat before I got to it, smiling cheerfully as she pointed to her ticketed spot in the middle of the row across. I agreed to the trade without complaint, not because I’m such a swell person, but because I’d rather squish between two grownups than stretch my legs next to a child animatedly piloting Mario and his kart.
Plus, it was a short flight.
It all reminded me that there are lots of ways to live a life, and most are manageable for the rest of us when we practice patience and bring a good book.
Rule-following is rooted deep in my core, cultivated by catholic school and cautious introversion and I find comfort in the security of the structure.
But animals and age bring acceptance of the occasional anomaly, challenges to the status quo. Exceptions to the rule offer an opportunity to review long-held beliefs, practices, and systems, which may remind of original intent, renew commitment, and reinforce behavior. Or they may serve as motivation to refresh, to acknowledge that changing the routine can change the perspective, which can change the mind, which can be enlightening. Or fun. Or at least bearable.
Unless we’re talking deerflies and mosquitoes in the woods on a humid day.
eXamine
when you look for it
From Four Sticks Farm 