like pebbles on the beach

Eshala asked me the other night what I was giving up for Lent. "Things certain to annoy me" I replied. She protested that it didn't count, that I was giving myself something, rather than denying. Yes, but...

I've been mindful of it for the last couple of days. I've avoided links that I thought would be just annoying, or found myself reading something and realized - maybe I should have skipped this, if I'm fasting from intentionally annoying myself. 

It's not quite the same as avoiding frustration (I tried to sync my ereader yesterday, and ended up updating and reinstalling the software on it) - or refusing to confront news that is enraging or heartbreaking in its injustice. 

Why would I be intentional irritating myself anyway? What's the attraction to it - not the challenge of feeling out my edge in yoga practice, or enduring the rounds of boys playing Call of Duty in the living room.  I'm reminded of some of the elders I visit in nursing homes, who nurse resentment and ascribe ill motivation to ordinary change or interaction.

So.

I'm giving up annoyance for Lent. As best I can. 

I'm sure if we end up with an election call before Easter I'll get lots of practice.