the new nuns
I had a physical this week and had to answer a barrage of questions along the lines of: Have you been depressed in the past week? Do you feel a lack of hope and how often? Do you sometimes feel life is not worth living? And so on. I checked “no” to all of them, as I don’t see any point in confessing “yes” to any of it. Will my doctor provide me with compatible friends or a list of places to meet viable men? Well okay then.
All in all, I feel like I’m puttering through well enough on my own. The weather, as usual, has been beautiful, and I plan to get out in it this weekend. I’m recommitting to my Spanish and have a bunch of plans brewing related to my job. I do manage to get to some events alone, and I met up last weekend with another NoMo (unfortunately she lives about an hour away). The yoga and meditation continue to keep me calm and stabilize my health.
Having said all that, I am, after all, a monkey. And being a monkey, at some level I will always long for a tribe and for status and mating opportunities within that tribe. Yoga and meditation can only go so far in tamping down those animal instincts.
I’m unsure whether I will ever find that tribe here, as living in this place I’m reminded a bit of when I was in a sorority– I liked many of the women, but I never quite fit. And yet I do plan to settle in for several years. I can’t fathom another move.
A few decades ago, I probably would have turned to church for at least one of the reasons I now turn to meditation– as a way to cope with situations I have little control over. Many of us middle-aged women in yoga pants might once have been wearing nun habits.