An Epic Day In Its Own Way
23 August 2012
St. Simeon Stylites on his pillar and those hermits and monks who withdrew into desert spaces or mountaintop caves for Contemplation in Silence: Just as life with Charlie has been showing me how it is possible to function without writing and reading the written word, so Charlie's capacity for standing pretty much in one spot for hours on end (6, 7) reveals how Simeon and all the non-merry band of reclusive types could engage in their exploits.
I'm not trying to romanticize Charlie and his doings. Wednesday, these were not very varied:
Long bouts (measured in hours) of what I feel should be called Extreme Stim, in his room, the living room across from the front door, the kitchen, the bathroom.
A late morning bike ride towards the latter part of which Charlie, legs starting to shake, ran from off his bike and was headed for some houses but Jim grabbed the back of his shirt à la Athena taking Achilles about to draw his sword on Agamemnon by the hair and Charlie was talked back into getting on his bike without a bite and made it back home.
A first.
Maybe all that was connected to Charlie keeping his bike helmet, skullcap, gloves and ankle strap on for the next 6 or 7 hours as he stood and 'went through his (almost non-moving) paces.'
Around 8pm he polished off most of the watermelon in the refrigerator, after not eating much (a few apples) all day.
He talked a little which was a lot as he barely said anything on Tuesday (sign of a sore throat).
Though I'd seen Charlie yawning, he is up and it's late night (3am ish) shower time.
(Pace pole-sitting saints, indoor plumbing rules.)
I'm not trying to romanticize Charlie and his doings. Wednesday, these were not very varied:
Long bouts (measured in hours) of what I feel should be called Extreme Stim, in his room, the living room across from the front door, the kitchen, the bathroom.
A late morning bike ride towards the latter part of which Charlie, legs starting to shake, ran from off his bike and was headed for some houses but Jim grabbed the back of his shirt à la Athena taking Achilles about to draw his sword on Agamemnon by the hair and Charlie was talked back into getting on his bike without a bite and made it back home.
A first.
Maybe all that was connected to Charlie keeping his bike helmet, skullcap, gloves and ankle strap on for the next 6 or 7 hours as he stood and 'went through his (almost non-moving) paces.'
Around 8pm he polished off most of the watermelon in the refrigerator, after not eating much (a few apples) all day.
He talked a little which was a lot as he barely said anything on Tuesday (sign of a sore throat).
Though I'd seen Charlie yawning, he is up and it's late night (3am ish) shower time.
(Pace pole-sitting saints, indoor plumbing rules.)
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