Just Another Ordinary Day

Maurice. I felt to focus on ”ordinary” for a moment. It is such an extraordinary word in the modern world where no one hopes to be ordinary or experience a boring day. The real David wishes he were not driven towards this, but “he” and all the inner companions are completely swimming in a material ocean man unwittingly has made.

Who knows, perhaps most of the folks long ago had little desire to be anything but ordinary, or at least not stand out in their family unit or be any source of disharmony. Perhaps only a tiny fraction could be compared to unaware grit in a finely tuned delicate watch.

Hmm… a drift perhaps towards something too serious or stuffy. “I” go now to age four when every day was just another ordinary day and everything simply happened and concerns or anxiety were nearly absent from the mix.

At that time we lived in a cosy farmhouse. My mother said later on it was quite cold, but that never registered what so ever. I felt loved and events like my baby sister arriving after mother’s short absence were non-events, just a natural unfolding as God willed.

One evening I fell asleep as usual and slept heavily. I was in a drowsy state for maybe three hours the next morning and did not really hear anything going on until my older sister came in the bedroom and woke me up and directed towards the car in my pyjamas. I watched as they took my bed as the last item in our now empty house and put it in a trailer. Mother or maybe my older sister held the 5-month old baby in the front seat. We drove off. We drove to town and a large Victorian house with a very leaky roof and buckets in most rooms and a coal furnace in a blackened basement. In the back was a ravine. The kitchen had a separate curved stairway. It felt haunted to me.

That day felt completely “normal” in my feelings, just ordinary, but every day was like that until maybe half way through kindergarten.

(I realized later we moved four times in three years. Perhaps not everyone wanted to rent to a family of seven on the east coast and most of my father’s childhood years were in Indiana.)

In my sixties I wrote of a day that signified the start of older age, though I did not know that as it happened. (Age 64 or so.)

A Tuesday

We were alone.

No one called us. It was a Tuesday. David and Margaret did not know why there was this feeling like the rest of the world was not impinging. The feeling that something has changed and for these hours there is no need to be disturbed by normal and regular details of life. That stillness in the heart and mind might have been disturbed, but they were not. An experience of some sort, with no immediate need to understand, if ever.

A serene day without a need for it to end it before its time was over. So the sun set without event and the time was graced to a certain quiet. Tomorrow may relate to bodily needs and desires, or some good or useful effort given for that prescribed day. A day experienced and arranged by the One power Ever Aware, Bestowing, Closer than the closest, enveloping highest and lowest. Opening all beginnings and bringing to an end all endings.

This brain had a plan to write about ages 54, 44, 34, down to age 4, but they were years where I felt jumbled or asleep inside and I had no wish to revisit any of it!

The End? … Really now, what planet could such a word arise from?

By David McCormack

04/27/2026