Learning to Rest

Recently, I took a 30-day hiatus from Blogging to give my words a rest. That’s what I’m learning about and it’s spilling over into other areas of my life. I’m even reading books about rest because I’ve never been good at it, but want to be.

Rest doesn’t mean napping the day away, but I used to think rest resembled a midday nap. Just like in this previous post, rest for me is not filling all the flower beds this Spring because that choice will bite hard come August. I should be working right now, but my list of tasks are light, so I took the morning off to move mindfully through my day and that feels restful.

I used to clean my house on Sunday afternoons to get it done before the work week, but that stopped. I’ve decided to use Sunday for what it was created for instead. I spent Sunday catching up with friends, sitting in nature, reading through my stack of books and cooked one more delectable dinner. This notion of rest began last December, but I am putting it to practice this year.

In December I read through a years worth of morning pages and a couple of journals, but there was one common theme written throughout. It read, “I am tired, today.” I don’t want to read that anywhere this December.

I’m finding that rest doesn’t mean do nothing, but to be very still in every action and listen to the heart. Rest is a close cousin to peace and there’s no better feeling, besides love, than harnessing continual peace while learning to rest.

I’ll happily read this to you here:

Feature Photo by Derek Liang on Unsplash

A Sacred Space

You must have a room, or a certain hour of the day, or so where you do not know what is in the morning paper. A place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are, and what you might be. At first, you may find nothing’s happening, but if you have a sacred place and use it, something will happen.
Joseph Campbell

Over the past year I’ve taken my meditation practice more seriously and it’s possibly one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. The feature photo for this post is often used in my work with Zen Habits and from the first moment I laid eyes on it, I knew I wanted a part of my life to resemble that photo. It’s an accurate assessment to say, this photo planted a seed.

To make this photo a reality in my life, it was necessary to create space for it to arrive. I tried various areas in my home and even meditated outdoors when the weather cooperated, but couldn’t find THE right space until I looked toward the ultimate sacred space, which is my bedroom. It made sense to use a space already considered sacred, just on a smaller, more intimate scale.

It was important to see if I was serious about this practice before investing any money in it, or if it proved to be more difficult than imagined and wasn’t for me, so for a while I sat on a large floor pillow type cushion that I already owned. Within a few weeks, I truly enjoyed meditating and began seeing the well-being benefits of it such as, increased focus, clarity of mind and a prolonged feeling of calm. Taking time to meditate I began to see it spill over into my everyday which picked up a flow by offering serenity within the productivity.

I researched meditation cushions and even purchased a couple, but sent them back to the store. It’s so important for your bum to be comfortable, especially during prolonged periods of meditation. The cushion should feel supportive by keeping your back straight and your bum cradled. Crushed buckwheat hulls are recommended as the filler for adequate comfort and durability.

The rug and floor pillar are by World Market and the 5′ floor pillar emanates a warm glow during overcast days. What’s used as a small, wood table is an old foot stool from a local Antique Shoppe. Palo Santo is lit to clear the air of this sacred space before meditating. The small dish you see is actually one of my pottery pieces from the class I took last year that you can read about here.

May the seeds in your heart lift and guide you into a sacred space.

Relax while I read this to you.

Feature Photo by Jared Rice on Unsplash

What a Saturday Morning Feels Like

I did something this morning that I haven’t done in a very long time. I sat down in one of the overstuffed Parson chairs, grabbed my red throw to cover my legs and read a few pages from a book that’s laying on my table of books. I believe a writer should be surrounded by books. It’s inspiring to read what other writer’s wish to share and it’s encouraging to know deep in my bones that eventually there will be a book written by yours truly.

I was Marco Poloing with the magical Mrs. M this week and we were joking about the amount of books we live with. She went as far to purchase a rolling cart like you see being used at the public library! I just think that’s the coolest thing ever, but I don’t have a huge amount of books lying around, although you will find a stack in many of the rooms. If they are in a stack, they’re waiting to be read and on a shelf are some of my favorites that I don’t want to lose track of.

I think what I did this morning is considered normal, but I was amused that it felt planned. Yesterday, I published a newsletter for work entitled, ‘Slow Down December’ and thought it best to practice what was gently preached. I heated a chocolate chip scone and laid a slab of butter beside it once heated. Poured a cup of Christmas blend coffee in a retired Starbucks mug and sat them on the table of books. Anyone could find something at this table to suit their reading needs.

It was just getting light outside as I soaked up the stillness and thought…

This is what a Saturday morning feels like.

Slow is Free

I was walking the neighborhood, and saw some friends outside, so stopped to say hello. One had a question about tea filters, and the best method for loose-leaf teas. When describing the type bag I use, her husband began nodding his head, like he could envision what I’d described. He said, “I’ll just order some off Amazon and they’ll be here tomorrow, or maybe even tonight!” Everyone chuckled.

In January of this year, I stopped ordering from Amazon. Delivery is fast, but I was hugely disappointed in the quality of product. What I’d ordered looked as if it had been opened and for all I know, could have been used.

This made me look at other areas of my life in which I was paying for fast, and PayPal was another. To move money from PayPal into another account was immediate, for a price. They take a percentage of the money moved, which bothered me to no end, considering PayPal did nothing to earn the money. I was paying for convenience. You can move it for free, but they warn it may take 1-3 business days, but the money shows up in 24 hours.

Free takes more time. It helps is to pay attention and take note when you’re running out of something. To order it ahead of time and not pay an extra fee for fast, because in more ways than one, slow is free.

The First Hour

The dogs know when they see me flip over the sand timer, I’m going to tap the keys for 30 minutes. That’s how long the sand will run, and about as long as I’m good sitting in one spot. I remember when I first started Blogging, I could sit here for hours, and the posts were long. That changed over time. Maybe time revealed how valuable it is. It the one thing we spend that will not return, so try to use it wisely.

I woke up early this morning and it was still dark outside. I didn’t dare turn on the bedside lamp, or the dogs would think it was time to get up. They don’t move until they see the new day streaming in through the windows. It’s cloudy, so the day was here without them knowing it. I sat in darkness and listened to the stillness of the house. I could hear warm air coming in through the vents and was grateful for heat. I knew if I pulled the chain of the lamp beside me, it would illuminate the room, so I was grateful for electricity. There were many things to be grateful for, even the bed I was sitting on, blanketed in warmth.

Leo Babauta says, “There’s a deliciousness to the early morning.” We get to choose to roll out of bed and dive into the day, or wake up early to greet it. The first hour is sacred, and sets the tone for the rest of day.

I walked through the house, lit a candle, and made a cup of coffee. There is one lamp burning brightly as I sit at my desk and type. A nearby clock is ticking more loudly than my typing, but the house remains still. The sand timer has emptied, but I’m not ready to move just yet, because once I do, the house will spring to life. Thank you for sitting here with me in this stillness of the first hour.

It’s Just Beginning

I put clean sheets on my bed this morning, but not my daughter’s. It’s the little things that reveal our lives are separating. We raise them to be independent, but frown when they’re independent with Momma. Today, I smiled.

I’m happy my daughter is 20 years old.

My ‘raising her’ days are over, but she’s still watching. She watches how I live my life and listens to the words I say. I haven’t stopped striving to be the hero she saw at age five, but now I get to be both our heroes. Where some Mother’s feel their life is over once the kiddo’s are grown, I feel my life is just beginning.

Granted, it’s the second half of life. I’m 55 years old and single, but I’m happy. This new year/decade I’ll discover so many thing about myself, including who I want to be.

The possibilities are endless.

I encourage you to live your life.

Just because they’re grown and gone doesn’t mean life stands still. No my darling, for Momma’s of adult children, it’s just beginning.

Slowly and Suddenly

This mum was given to me weeks ago.

I was told if it didn’t bloom right, to let them know. The store selling them has had returns and complaints. How do you bloom right?

When my daughter brought it home, it was wrapped in plastic, bone dry and the buds were shut tight. I began drenching it with water.

I placed a dish under the pot so it could sit and soak up the overflow. It was so thirsty some of the buds were DOA, but slowly it began soaking up the care that was given. It began to bloom and it has buds waiting to bloom.

For some it didn’t bloom fast enough.

This mum shows me how God works.

Ever so slowly and then suddenly.

Live Like Chemex

My daughter and I are serious about coffee. Over the years, she has seen me use a coffee maker with a timer, so it’s ready before my feet hit the floor. The beeping of the coffeemaker was my alarm clock. Then came the Kuerig. That was fast and convenient, but it didn’t make itself. Have you ever run out of those pods? Stressful.

My daughter loves the Chemex. I’ve been watching her all year to see how it’s done. Now, I wake up and give myself time to be fully awake to make a Chemex. This is new for me. I’m waking up to make the brew, instead of it waiting to wake me up.

It’s more than coffee. It’s a moment.

Over the weekend, I bought a new trivet.

Kazigoods

I thought I was buying it for the Chemex, but found myself using it for the goose-neck kettle instead. It’s handmade and affordable, but you can only spot clean it. The Chemex process can get messy. Sometimes it decides to sputter coffee everywhere. My daughter is not a fan when it spews, but I see it as a part of life. 🙂

Today, I pulled out this hot plate designed to keep coffee hot. This actually came with a KitchenAid coffee maker I had 20 years ago. KitchenAid was built to last, but it wasn’t designed for the wooden collar around the Chemex. The wood absorbs heat and will burn your hand, so drink the coffee before it gets cold, or keep it on low.

My daughter will love this trivet.

Pretty catches our eye, but we don’t buy a lot of things. Life itself is simply beautiful. Things can be affordable and useful, but still be pretty. It doesn’t matter if she uses it for the kettle or the Chemex, as long as she enjoys it.

Moments happen slowly, but go by quick. A gradual decrease in the pace of life creates a steady flow. Live like Chemex.

Teach Them Kindness

My daughter’s Jeep got hit, but it can take it.

She was pulling into a parking lot with a car in front of us. There was plenty of parking, but the car in front decided to park at the same time as my daughter. They pulled into a space side by side. The stranger’s passenger door flung open before either car was fully parked.

It was a child in a hurry to exit.

Her car door hit my daughter’s Jeep.

My daughter was angry, but not because the Jeep was hit. It was because the little girl was in a hurry. This could have been more than a scratch.

The little girls face showed remorse and terror as soon as it happened, but the mother was a different story all together. She was prepared with anger, but I diffused with kindness.

“I didn’t even see you”, she said.

Were we hidden from view?

She had a car full of girls. Life is distracting.

It was an accident, but “I’m sorry”, was left unsaid.

This is what hurt my daughter the most.

The little girl thought we’d be mad, not sad.

The Jeep was made for this, but not the hearts.

The Right Amount

One evening I was craving macaroni and cheese.

I looked at my favorite recipe, and went to the kitchen to see if I had what was needed. It looked promising.

As I was pouring each ingredient into the pan, I was amazed by having the right amount of each. This wasn’t planned by be, but it was obviously planned for me.

My fave homemade Mac and Cheese.

That’s how God works in my life.

I realized if He could give me the exact ingredients for mac and cheese, He surely had all of the ingredients measured out for a spectacular life.

He wants me to trust Him.

And I do.

A spectacular life sounds like the right amount.

Inbarbsworld

"I adore pretty things and witty words." Kate Spade

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