It’s okay to change your mind. I change mine over something almost every day and I think being adaptable smooths the rough edges of change.
Even though I didn’t plant any flowers in the ground this year, it didn’t stop me from having flowers. There’s something inside of me especially this time of year that just needs to see bloom. I went to a local garden center to see if my friend had anything in stock that sparked my heart. She knows my yard is shaded and helps me choose plants that will be happy here. She pointed to a flower basket that was pretty in it’s simplicity, but I wanted two that matched. She looked around and found one more and they were the only ones there, so I purchased both.
Working from home, I need a reason to step outside each day. There’s just enough to tend to in the yard where I spend a few minutes rather than hours like previous summers and that’s a refreshing change. Summer is a busy time of year for a lot of families, but I’m grateful to be in a season where I get to slow the pace. Yes, my darling…this is the summer I want to hear myself living.
I couldn’t find a good photo online of what I saw. Maybe it was a moment that couldn’t be caught by a phone camera. I thought about taking a picture, because at the time my phone was in my hand. This is also how I almost missed it.
There’s a popular saying, “Do more things that make you forget your phone”, but I was doing nothing. I had awakened before dawn to begin my day in a mindful way. Once it was daylight, I exited my sacred space and entered the main part of the house for a cup of tea to sit and sip while reading. I’m still learning to rest and for those who are following that topic, I’m now reading. “Sabbath”, by Wayne Muller.
The thunderstorm arrived quickly as if out of nowhere. I grabbed my phone to check the weather app and then of course having the phone in hand took me onto checking a couple of other apps until I caught myself plowing through emails. The thunder had stopped and I could hear a good, steady rain falling on the tin roof. That’s when I looked up from my phone and my gaze landed on a nearby window. I sat in awe of what the window revealed.
The raindrops were tiny and gently streaming straight down with a slight breeze ruffling a vine growing along the neighbors fence. What drew me into this moment was the sunlight streaming between the fence and a tree at just the right angle that transformed it into a showcase of nature. It only lasted for a minute before the sun retreated behind a cloud and the rain began to cease.
In a restful state, or ‘not doing’ there are extraordinary moments like these readily available to witness, and to think by looking at my phone…I almost missed it.
Practice a restful state while I read this to you.
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.