The View

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A couple of weeks ago, I got sick and had to stay in bed for the day. It felt like heaven. Just like heaven.  It felt so good to not have to be anywhere, do anything, or have anyone expect anything of me. It took the flu to get me to stop, but once I stopped, I realized just how fast I had been going.

The last few months have felt like life is just flying by so fast. It’s like I am riding on some fast train. The view is always rolling by, but you never get to fully take it in, to appreciate it. The train rolls on and you say, “Oh, look, a farm. With three horses. And an old toilet…what’s the old toilet doing in the field?”

But before you can answer that question, or even ponder the delight of the simple fact that there is a toilet in the field, the train moves on. And on. And you roll past some woods, past a pond, past a little village. You get a glimpse of these scenes, but you don’t really get to experience them. You don’t see what types of trees are in the woods. If there are kids swimming in the pond. What kids of people live in the village.

But that’s where the good stuff is, in the details. And that’s what I have been missing these past few months, the glorious, up close details of my life.

I've been missing things like good stories from my friends, both here and in the walking around world. Missing the magic of nature as it brews up this crazy warm winter. Missing the goodness I feel from  stretching and growing in my body and in my mind. I am seeing these wonders, but they are blowing be so fast that I am not feeling really present with them.

I pondered all this when I was sick, and wondered how I could give more of my attention to the details. My job will continue to make demands of me. My growing daughter will continue to amaze and confuse me as she enters a time of pre-adolescence (be with me, God.) There is still laundry to do, reports to write, library books to return, dog hair in the corner of each room, groceries to buy. There is still so much that I need to do. And in all that doing, how do I find time to just be?

Turns out that maybe just breathing is a good start.

When I was sick, I read Thich Nhat Hahn’s book You Are Here.

The book gives beautiful, expansive thoughts to living mindfully, but it always comes back to the idea that by the simple act of breathing, we reconnect ourselves to the moment, to the earth. He writes:

“You respect your in-breath, your out-breath, your physical body and your mental formations. The in-breath moves inward, the out-breath moves outward. Breathing reminds you that you are here for life; and if you are here for life, life will be here for you. It’s that simple.”

Breathe and smile. It’s that simple. And it is. Kind of. It takes a while to remember to be present this way. But I am working on it.  And when I do, when I breathe and become present, it slows me down. Slows down the train so I can take in all the view has to offer.