The Egg of Certainty

Eggs of Certainty

Much has happened since my last message in an electro-silicon bottle.

The Cave has been transplanted to a new residence, twice; we are now the proud and faintly dusty inhabitants of our very own, home-built home.

A new Caveniece was born. (Joy!)

The ‘Danger of Work’ siren has been sounded, opening up possibilities such as running a Spanish class, as long as I can somehow extract another couple of hours out of each 24 hour period. (I may have to resort to dynamite.)

A marriage teetering on the brink of collapse is slowly picking itself up by the scruff of its neck, giving its ears a good clean, and looking – if not impeccable – at least significantly more chirpy.

My novel, which – if you know me, and I think practically all of you do, unless you are being paid to boost my blog hits – are sick of hearing about, is also moving towards the light at the end of the tunnel, clicking its heels with merriment.

Most revolutionary of all, thanks to my new readerly obsession ‘Nonviolent Communication’ by Marshall Rosenberg, I am (mostly) removing all the provocative words from my vocabulary, thus dramatically reducing my risk of getting up other people’s noses.

(“When I {see you cutting up my tablecloth with my sewing scissors}, I feel {outraged} because I have a need for {my tablecloth to be in one piece and not ribbons, you wretched little…oops.}”)

Having therefore reaching the giddy heights of supermothering, I would like to share with you the secret of my almost Hello!-worthy success:

This Hogmanay, in an effort to consolidate our joint resolution to stay centred and not get in a flap during 2011, my best friend and I developed a new T’ai Chi/yoga move. It involves stepping out each foot with a whoosh of the corresponding hand, coming to a kind of Maori Haka stance (terrifying grimace is optional but seems to add to the ceremonial feel of the move).

With an audible grunt of effort, bring each hand forward one after the other, and then rush them together towards your bosom, emitting as you do so a powerful roar. This may come out sounding like a lion regarding its domain, or vole being trodden underfoot; it matters not. The effect of centring is achieved.

If you are doing it correctly, you will look – to the ignorant masses, at least – like a demented Samurai warrior cracking a colossal egg onto his/her chest. I like to think of it as the ‘egg of certainty’, since it seems to confer an instant jolt of conviction (no, not to a high-security prison for the mentally insane). When I remember to do it, I can almost feel the loincloth of Gandhi around me, bestowing upon me the simplicity and the daring to ‘be the change I wish to see in the world’.

Yes, that’s right. Forget about clean oceans, pollution-free agriculture and harmonious children helping old ladies to find their teeth. What I really want to see in the world in 2011 is lots of people roaring into the void, with a wild, carefree expression on their faces, imagining they have just smashed the most tremendous power-egg known to man upon their brave, unflinching, majestic chests.

It’s time, people. Shall we begin?

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2 thoughts on “The Egg of Certainty

  1. as usual cavemum you’ve given me a new spring in my step and a joy in my heart, I have missed you so, I’ll be smashing the eggs of certainty daily from now onwards xxxx

    • aah sweet soul samurai sister! those eggs have waiting a long time in my notebook, but they will never go off! just awaiting the next time i need to crack one open…love you xxx

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