The other day my husband called me to our back patio, where he had sat to relax after a day of working in the yard. He happily and proudly proclaimed as he waved his arm from left to right, "How can I ever complain when I have all this." He pointed, not at our humble possessions, but at the sky where the sun was gradually hiding behind the horizon leaving a trail of striking colors and hues, which no human artist can paint. Everywhere we looked we were delightfully shocked by the vastness of beauty that surrounds us at any given moment. To take advantage of this natural spectacle all we have to do is simply notice.
This morning I was greeted by an unusual sky for these parts. It was overcast and the clouds hovered above playfully teasing those of us who love the rain, silently laughing and growing before exploding into a deluge of life giving water. The thunder sang its boisterous song as I watched the rain twinkle its age old dance.
Before that I basked in silence. I love the early morning before everyone else wakes up and intrudes on my conversations with stillness. The house seems almost lazy, as if it too wants to prolong the emptiness that fills its space. No movement, no sound, things just seem to hang in a delicious void which I relish.
The morning proceeded with my daily rituals - treats for Daisy, coffee for me, for a few moments I sat quietly listening to nothing but the faint hum of the computer before I opened it and began to play.
Once my family was up, my day proceeded predictably, filled with tending the two old ladies and trying intermittently to live as fully as possible.
I remember the days when I was busy; so busy I often made no time for lunch or even pee breaks. I was a workaholic and I wore the label proudly, deluding myself into thinking that my work gave me identity, that it showered me with prestige, that it symbolized my self-worth.
Even then though, I knew the value of stillness and tried to build it into my life when possible. But my grandiose delusion told me I was so important, my work was so important - how could I be expected to find the time to just be?
What's that saying? about hindsight? Well, it's not too helpful to look back lest we fall into the arms of regret. That's a waste of time, like guilt or shame. My comfort lies in at least now recognizing what's really important. Not that many of us could spend hours looking at the horizon, there's a living to be made right? But, there is such a thing as balance. I hope, if I'm ever born again, that I retain that tidbit of wisdom.
I think I'm digressing. Sorry. My objective was to write about being mindful and appreciating the little things that are available to us effortlessly, just by being aware of them.
For those of you who are still contestants in that proverbial rat race, may I, based on experience and good intention suggest that for your health - mental, physical and spiritual, you take the time to notice the big and little splendorous things around you. Really, smell your coffee and the roses. Stop and listen... to nothing but your own breath. Take a minute to honor your own splendor. The world will still revolve.
As for myself, I continue to learn. I still forget sometimes that the simple pleasures are life enhancing. That they are role models who know how to live in the present moment, available to me now, for free and with abundance.
I just went to reheat my coffee and my micro wave gives a little written message after doing its job. The Universe's manner of communication no longer surprises me. In big yellow letters in the microwave screen were the words: