Luggage Mentality

It just got really cold. A couple of hours ago I was baking in the sun and now I am taking cover in my dorm.

We only worked today until lunch, I suppose because it's Saturday. This was probably the most ideal weather so far, a relief after several days of moisture. The storm that has been threatening, both in the forecast and sky, for the last few days, never materialized. Or maybe it did while I slept.

Today after work, Noah and I attempted to teach each other languages. He mostly tried to teach me German, which I remember very little of after my year of high school German. I think the Russian crowded it out of my brain, an organ of finite capacity. I'd like to learn all of the languages, but I don't think that is possible. Especially since I'd be starting so late.

I'll only be in Williamstown for another week, and then I won't return until some time next winter. Once the farm routine has been established, weeks pass really quickly. It's a sort of Luggage Mentality, a concept which I think I invented and into which I put much stock.

According to the Doctrine of Luggage Mentality, if you are on a long car trip and you have an itch on your foot, it's best not to scratch it. As soon as you scratch it, you will have another itch five minutes later. This cycle will continue until you are hot and uncomfortable, and then after a little while, you will be hot, uncomfortable, and itchy instead of just itchy.

If you hold very still and imagine that you are a piece of luggage in cargo, if you separate your mind from its temple, your body, long car trips can be endured with less turmoil. Similarly, in a routine of manual labor, I can count on my body to continue its task, day in and day out, and time moves on forward.

I do enjoy working on the farm, and it's not as though I want it to end quickly. But somehow it is rewarding to transcend the passage of time, to skip through the weeks as if they will never end.