Outside, the snow is softly falling, coating the trees with blankets of white. My window is cracked open, and frost has formed on the inside. In this time of tightly sealed houses, open windows in winter is a freshening thing. It is the day after Boxing Day and everyone is exhausted from Christmas and COVID panic, so the world is very quiet, a welcome respite from the frantic pace of the past few weeks.
I love these days between Christmas and New Year’s Day when I give myself a mental holiday, not worrying about business or any of the other fierce pressures of my usual life. It is a time to reflect, to snooze a little, to listen to music, or watch a silly movie. The snowfall is just a bonus.
I like to doodle. And I do doodle. There are always scraps of paper covered with mostly flowers, but sometimes people or trees or something abstract, littering my desk and, if one catches my fancy, I may tape it to the wall beside me. Doodling is a wonderful way of passing the time at boring zoom meetings when people go on and on about nothing. I used to do this in Parliament, and everyone thought I was taking copious notes, but not a single note was taken. Instead, I would doodle. Or I would write silly limericks about the people across the table in parliamentary meetings and hearings. Odd bits of dialogue would stick in my mind and sometimes come out as verse.
I particularly remember a woman who was always smiling as she asked loaded questions during the 1992 constitutional hearings. My then co-chair, Claude Castonguay, whispered to me, “There are very sharp teeth in that smile!” How apt. She was a bit of a barracuda! I don’t think that ended up in a limerick, but it should have!
The thing is, doodling and verse-making are ways of giving the mind a break. They provide the brain a chance to sort all the bits and pieces of trivial or profound information bombarding it every minute. For a time in politics, I couldn’t write at all, because the political world was all about words, millions of them mostly meaningless, what today would be called “word salads”, contaminating the air and filtering into the smallest crevasses of my mind.
A scrap of verse written out of sheer verbal overload comes to me now:
Words are birds.
They fly in herds!
For relief, I took up water colouring. I was never very good — I am, after all, just a doodler, but it gave me much comfort.
Another time I was taking part in a live panel on pollution. This was back in the late 80s and the environmental thing was just coming into prominence. Single-use products like Bic pens and lighters were all the rage. While the other panelists spoke, I wrote:
We lived in Bic society,
Where waste was the height of propriety.
I can’t remember the rest, but I read it to the crowd at the end of the event in my summation, thinking it would give them a laugh. It did not. Seems these guys had no sense of humour even back then!
The other thing I do to ease my mind is physical activity. In winter, vacuuming, washing floors, and dusting, is not as good as gardening in summer, but it soothes the soul. I could go for walk, but it is cold, and I am becoming allergic to cold. Working out at the local gym is also a big help, much as I hate dragging myself there, although once there, I immediately feel energized.
Despite all this, there is still a good deal to be said for good old-fashioned sleep. I took advantage of that today, dozing till late into the morning. What a luxury!
Outside, the snow has stopped. The day is already darkening although it is only a little after 3:00. There is a very light breeze teasing the branches of the spruce tree, occasionally sending a puff of snow whirling into the air. The phone is silent. The neighbourhood is tranquil. Even the birds and squirrels seem to be taking a rest.
I am filled with the joy of being lazy.