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Being on Time

September 3, 2010

My old college friend, Sarah, has a wonderful post up on her experiences right now in Haiti.

She is talking about how not everything goes according to plan and sometimes, when it doesn’t, it works out for the better. Only she says it much prettier.

And when I am not in control, sometimes—just sometimes—something better happens. I meet someone I wouldn’t have. I avoid an accident I might have had. I see something beautiful.

At other times, not being able to control life means the artist doesn’t show up for the meeting and the community members lose faith in us—one more organization that broke its promise.

Sometimes it means there are fish bones and a couple of ants in my egg sandwich . . .

I have to say, I simply do not have this equanimity about my work in India. I get deeply frustrated when things don’t work out according to plan. And when it doesn’t – it usually means we are screwed. But I don’t think that is such a great attitude in life. I wish I was more… what-will-come-will-come types. Instead, I have only grown rigid as I age. Ah well.

I love being on time to work. It is a joy to be able to have the time to sit a little while with my steel tumbler of coffee. Listening to the kids noisily get ready, and chatter their way to the school down the street.

Ramu (the shelter guard dog—who is a dead-ringer for Moti from my old neighbourhood) will come wagging his tail, placing his head on my lap. I will give him biscuits if I have any. And he will drool all over me as he licks it off the ground. Which I find gross, so I push him away.

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