It’s a new year! Crikey. How did that happen?
It never ceases to amaze me how humans have managed to organise their calendar: how the 21st December is the shortest day in our country and it’s the same EVERY YEAR! It’s literally mind-blowing, like how daffodils know that spring is coming! And how on Earth did someone calculate just how and when to add in that pesky extra day at the end of February some years, just so that everything stays in sync?
Yes, there are certain inevitabilities in our lives that we can’t fight against. The seasons and the days of the week are undeniable. I am quite glad about that actually. Since I was little, I was always careful not to make statements that might not be true – often finishing every spoken opinion with a muttered caveat of sorts, to prove I was open minded, and not dismissive of other standpoints or possibilities. All this has done is turn me into an adult whose brain churns out endless possible scenarios and leaves me astride many metaphorical fences. It’s stressful. But days of the week, times of the day, those sorts of things, are definite. Mostly.
Mini Seymour, however, knows her own mind. She doesn’t like heights or Chinese food. She has confidence in her own opinions and isn’t afraid to voice them boldly. She is also, it appears, unconvinced by those aforementioned certainties of life – the days of the week. This morning, whilst doing her hair (“some up, some down“) and exclaiming that it was Friday already, Mini asked if it was also Friday for her friend who goes to a different school. Bless her. I feel I have failed her in my teachings.
“Yes,” I told her. “It is Friday everywhere in the world.”
Then my caveat habit kicked in. I briefly thought of Australia, where it may be Saturday. But I chose not to confuse Mini with that over breakfast. Then I thought of the Yanomami people of the South American rainforests. I could not resist correcting my rare and boldly decisive former statement with “But in some places, people neither know nor care what the day is called. They just do what they do to survive. Like the indigenous peoples of ancient cultures.”
I think I lost her.
All kinds of possibilities entered my head – the Yanomami may well name their days of the week. (Do they?) There may or may not be seven days per cycle. (Are there?) Maybe there are no differences between the seasons in some parts of the world… ooh! Maybe I’d like to live there! Then again, maybe I wouldn’t. Before I knew it, amongst all these maybes, we were late leaving the house and Mini Seymour had moved on to pouting in the mirror.
Anyway, two things became apparent this morning. Firstly, I need to research rainforest tribes – I’m fascinated, and secondly (and more importantly) I need to work harder on Mini Seymour’s understanding of the world. She’s a clever, creative little person, but this year, my New Year’s resolution is to help her fill the gaps in her understanding of the world.
My other resolution, however, is to see things more the way that Mini Seymour sees them. She’s a loving, positive and forgiving human, unfettered by the world’s minutiae. She is honest about her feelings and totally herself. I resolve to be more like her.
And also to eat less crisps.
#let’sgo2022
(To confuse matters, I’m sure I saw a daffodil in bloom on Monday 3rd January…)
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