Goines On: Sanctification

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A pang of longing shot through Goines at Walmart, at his impulse to buy eye wash – a repetitive act of old, but no longer called for, since Ziggy had gone on and his and Mrs. Goines’ own need for eye wash was a small fraction of what Ziggy had needed because of his allergies. The thought now, in the pharmacy at Walmart, of buying eye wash somehow elevated the act – or just the thought of the act – to the status of a sacrament, a holy, hallowed, blessed act: in remembrance of Ziggy.
    Goines reflected that humans tend to hurry through repetitive acts, because they have become uninteresting out of over-familiarity, boring. He decided to challenge himself to “be mindful” about his own repetitive acts, imaginative in performing them.
    The next morning, on the bed stretching, Goines imagined himself a dog doing his open-book stretches. First on one side, and then on the other, he curled up the knees of his hind legs and reached a front leg back as far as he could toward the opposite side of the bed. Of course, a dog couldn’t reach very far with its non-human shoulder structure….
    Later, in the kitchen, he imagined himself a bear grinding coffee beans, the challenge now – for a bear – being to hold the manual grinder in one paw while grasping the crank handle with the other. After a few ursine turns of the crank, Goines became a woman, her breasts still loose in her domestic garments swaying with each turn of the crank....
    Goines’ life was replete with repetitive tasks waiting for mindful, sacramental promotion. He brushed his teeth every morning, every evening. He shaved approximately every third day. He put on his clothes each morning, he took them off before bed. He straightened up the bed covers. Every few weeks, he changed the sheets and the pillow cases. He prepared breakfast, he served Mrs. Goines hers, he ate his. He went for a 30-minute walk….

    Goines thought of the title of one of the wisest “self-help” books he had ever read, How to Want What You Have. He probably liked Miller’s philosophy because his own wisdom easily recognized Miller’s.
    Curious that Goines’ next thought was of an old friend – Robert, whose death had been reported to Goines by Robert’s son about ten years earlier. Of being satisfied with your lot, Robert had remarked: “Epictetus’ philosophy was that of a slave.” Goines now realized that he could have interpreted Robert’s remark all those years ago as merely a witty play on the fact that Epictetus was, literally, a slave. And Epictetus lived his life lame and in ill health, one of such of us, Goines saw, who are most in need of finding rapport with our lot in life. And Goines had had it pretty good, all things considered.

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