Re: Stale

My son and I had a covid talk about feeling stale. It doesn’t help that we are both without a significant other right now for different reasons too lengthy to go into, however we both admitted that life in the pandemic is bland and tasteless. When waking in the morning there isn’t that pop of enthusiasm that makes you want to be up and get going on something. We wonder where the zest has gone as we return to bed at the end of a lacklustre day. If you took this feeling out of the global pandemic context, the symptoms would suggest we are both depressed. Indeed, reports of research on the psychological impact of the last year show evidence of widespread depressive illness, even among children.

One of the first signs of depression can be a change in your senses. I remember losing taste when it happened to me. Coincidentally it can also be one of the symptoms of the body’s response to the coronavirus. I find that circular connectivity to the covid19 virus interesting: you may not get the illness that causes a sensation of staleness but trying not to get the disease also makes your life exceedingly drab and boring. I wonder if a whole culture can go stale. It’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation.

Things can grow stale in interpersonal relationships. Back when I paid attention to magazines at the grocery store check-out lane, Cosmopolitan magazine used to have front cover titles that claimed easy solutions to renew the romance in your life. In what is clearly a sexist approach to handling problems, I remember women were advised to be open to new sex positions. Men were supposed to show their softer side by bringing flowers or generally being more attentive. Both sexes were told to open metaphorical windows to banish staleness; bringing fresh air into their lives by being more spontaneous, by getting off on a secret rendezvous that often involved lots of lube.

I’m known in my family to love creating a meal from stale food. I enjoy making casseroles, chilis or soups from leftover fridge specimens. Heck, I’ve been chastised for plucking things from the trash bin under the sink. I come by the trait honestly, so they say, since my dad used to love telling stories of life in the North African WWII airbase where he was stationed. There was lots of weevil filled bread pudding, moldy cheese, and questionable beef stew. He would often be seen in our kitchen creating impromptu recipes from stuff my mom or sister had left on their plates, mumbling something about Louise Pasteur and penicillin.

The latest stat suggests Canadians throw out 79 kilograms of food waste each year. My penchant for using things up, repurposing or making the most out of every tiny morsel has a positive side. I also try not to buy into the ‘latest thing’ philosophy. I’ll choose consumer items that last, repair stuff and pass things on rather than trash them. I don’t think conservation should ever go stale.

Re: Motive

Motive is a cool word that can grow with the addition of syllables. Motive, a noun, can blossom into Motivate, a verb, then growing again to Motivation to become Motivational. It’s fun to see how flexible a word can be with a prefix or suffix. Like LEGO but with letters! So many different permutations eh?

My mother used to work for a busy private detective in Toronto. She picked up on some of the undercover language at the time; “That sounds like their MO. Just give me the facts. I wonder what their motive is.” It was one of many reasons I felt fear and love for my mom. She would often use her training and natural instinct to find out a reason behind my sister’s or my misbehaviour. We resented it. “You don’t know me!” I can still hear my sister yell after being accused, analyzed and sentenced almost in a single breath by our mother in a rush of anger. I’ve long past given up trying to sleuth out someone’s motive for a particular behaviour.

If we work at it we can come to know ourselves. I’ve concluded my own prime motivators are Fear and Love. Burrowing down into those two headings I find I can relate all my motivation to either Waste, Cost or Loss. Fearful mode is not where I wish to spend a lot of my time, yet fear of losing things makes me put things away carefully and therefore like all OCD individuals I get joy, pleasure, even loving feelings when I have ordered my world.

Some motivational speakers are making money helping us reduce, or cope with loss. FOMO (fear of missing out) is an acronym I just recently learned. If you feel FOMO you may become motivated to be involved. You might be worried about your time being squandered. No one wants to lose time when there is only one lifetime to live. When I graduated from University I was strongly motivated to get a job. I had met a woman I wanted to start having kids with and that was going to cost money, lots of it. Once I got a job I enjoyed the paycheques. I loved earning money and supporting my growing family. In the early days of employment I was fearful that I would lose my job.

Lately it’s Waste that has become a motivating force in my life. I’m motivated out of love for the planet to use less, waste less and make my efforts more kind, more respectful. I make servers in restaurants smile when I ask for a doggy bag. I used to do that because of the money I had spent, now it’s more about the thought of food being thrown out that motivates my request. Cost doesn’t urge me to action like it once did; I feel confident I can get by. I’ve seen and felt the loss of loved ones and precious things so I am less motivated to worry about this inevitability.

Perhaps wasting less can become a more universal motive for saving our precious planet. We can always hope.