Ran out of spoons
May. 26th, 2025 03:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
garyomahaFriends of our late scribe Jay Lake will remember his frequent reference to "having spoons left" and "running out of spoons" particularly in his last years. I can't recall the source, but (in my words) it's referring to one starting a day with so many "spoons" (amounts of energy) and various tasks taking so many "spoons" to do, resulting in one running out of energy. (Again, that's my way of describing it.)
I found that description to be excellent both in terms of the analogy and how I feel about many things/days.
Saturday was one of those "spoon depletion days" for me. The day's main event was a Celebration of Life for Warren, a long-time friend who died in April. He had been slipping away for some time and, to many, his passing was a goodness. I am in that camp -- we were given ample time to express to him how much he meant to us, and his dying was not a shock. (Also, he was 86, so it had been a good, long life.)
The Celebration of Life was held at a church. I was not involved in planning it, but Warren had specifically asked any event NOT to be held at a religious location. One of the three primary speakers was a retired minister who, in my opinion, hovered right on the line between religious and not, while Warren had asked NOT to have a religious service. (I suspect her words were offered and accepted because of her past connections with Warren but still it made me a bit uncomfortable.)
There was a very nice musical moment in the service where a quartet from Omaha's LGBTQ mixed chorus performed. I had sung the piece in the chorus years ago so it was especially moving to me. I wish they would have sung a bit more and I really wish more members of the chorus -- of which Warren's husband was a former member -- would have attended.
The Ceremony of Life, and particularly the fellowship time afterwards, totally drained me. The noise level during fellowship and the despicable large round tables where one is within earshot of only two people at a time made conversation impossible. (It wasn't just me -- several others mentioned it.)
The service itself was relatively brief -- many people attended but few spoke. I was ready with some words if others spoke but so few did so that I chose not to. Maybe that fed into itself, causing fewer people to talk.
I didn't realize how many spoons the event had taken out of me until I got home and had to rest a while. Maybe I'm out of condition for public events, or maybe the nature of this event just took it out of me.
I shall continue to check on Warren's husband. He seems okay and says he's doing okay, but I suspect he would appreciate continuing contacts.
I found that description to be excellent both in terms of the analogy and how I feel about many things/days.
Saturday was one of those "spoon depletion days" for me. The day's main event was a Celebration of Life for Warren, a long-time friend who died in April. He had been slipping away for some time and, to many, his passing was a goodness. I am in that camp -- we were given ample time to express to him how much he meant to us, and his dying was not a shock. (Also, he was 86, so it had been a good, long life.)
The Celebration of Life was held at a church. I was not involved in planning it, but Warren had specifically asked any event NOT to be held at a religious location. One of the three primary speakers was a retired minister who, in my opinion, hovered right on the line between religious and not, while Warren had asked NOT to have a religious service. (I suspect her words were offered and accepted because of her past connections with Warren but still it made me a bit uncomfortable.)
There was a very nice musical moment in the service where a quartet from Omaha's LGBTQ mixed chorus performed. I had sung the piece in the chorus years ago so it was especially moving to me. I wish they would have sung a bit more and I really wish more members of the chorus -- of which Warren's husband was a former member -- would have attended.
The Ceremony of Life, and particularly the fellowship time afterwards, totally drained me. The noise level during fellowship and the despicable large round tables where one is within earshot of only two people at a time made conversation impossible. (It wasn't just me -- several others mentioned it.)
The service itself was relatively brief -- many people attended but few spoke. I was ready with some words if others spoke but so few did so that I chose not to. Maybe that fed into itself, causing fewer people to talk.
I didn't realize how many spoons the event had taken out of me until I got home and had to rest a while. Maybe I'm out of condition for public events, or maybe the nature of this event just took it out of me.
I shall continue to check on Warren's husband. He seems okay and says he's doing okay, but I suspect he would appreciate continuing contacts.