Living with flaws

Listening to a favourite piece of music that I recorded years ago, I hardly notice the jump in the middle. I had meant to turn the CD player off while someone said something, and instead hit the record button.

I now have a unique recording of Mendelssohn’s Italian Symphony that has a baby crying in the middle of it. I play the music regularly, and have actually come to enjoy the brief exclamation in mid-symphony. I even know when it arrives – I have built it in to my own memory of the piece.

Life is full of imperfections – and not just ones that are forgotten or even revered in someway. I live above a supermarket and can often hear the public address system minutes before I fall asleep.

Like the baby in the symphony though, I have learned to live with it – I do not allow it to disturb my peace of mind. I rail against hooting horns – another feature of the square in front of my window, but don’t mind the pa announcements from the shop.

Asking myself why, I come up with the answer that whereas one is necessary, the other isn’t. That doesn’t explain my accepting the child in my symphony though, does it?

That probably has something to do with my ability, and indeed my willingness, to put up with less than perfect conditions. It may also be connected to my laziness; an unwillingness to do anything that is not absolutely vital.

As a teacher, I have found that this ability is an important part of coping with things that might be more annoying at home. The electricity outages I frequently had to put up with in Sudan were a source of irritation and annoyance at first, but like the dripping of a tap, you quickly learn to ignore it – particularly if you are powerless to do anything about it.

The ability to ignore some kinds of problems – a certain amount of resignation to them, is most probably one of the most important of our abilities. Assimilating the hiccup into part of the enjoyment of the event – learning to love it, seems to be the poor man’s lot, I’m afraid.
Robert L. Fielding