The world is still not arranging itself around me. This morning Laura called and gave me the phone number and name to ask for at OSU Transplant. I placed that call, giving them my cellphone number so I could leave the house and not miss a call. No luck. No call.
They told Laura the tissue typing has been done, but the results had to be evaluated by someone else. Sigh. This is ever the way in a bureaucracy, things are waiting on someone else's desk. It's June, so that person could be off on vacation this week. As I say, the rest of the world is not in a hurry for me to get what I want, which is to get the surgery over with.
After I placed the call and put my cellphone in my pocket, I wandered around the house. I didn't put on garden gloves or pick up a weeder or clipper - I was just there to see the hydrangea, the lilies, the hosta in first bloom. It was a balmy moment, about 75 degrees, a pleasant breeze. There are songs about this moment. I found that I was just there, not doing anything with the moment. I mean, not taking photographs or thinking about when a certain thing would photograph well. Not composing a poem in my mind, not cutting flowers for the kitchen table. Not planning dinner or how to do some autumn work in the gardens. And I understood what we mean by "retreat" - retreating from all that, just being. Inside the zendo we sit, doing nothing like that, and call it meditation - we call it "practice." For not making anything, not going anywhere, not doing.