Quietude

The scene: early morning on a Saturday, standing on the deck and watching the dog chase squirrels in the yard, listening to the birds squawk, tweet and chirp, as a gaggle of geese swim by silently on the placid lake, the sun rising behind me. 

This is where I belong - not on a four lane highway, hoping a semi truck or a speeding BMW doesn't take me out; not sitting in front of the tv, watching the massive storms sweep through California, or the plains or in my other comfort zone, Buffalo; not considering the size of Putin's drone; not contemplating another booster shot to fight yet another Covid variant; and not even sitting in front of the computer, putting words down on paper.

I am most at ease observing nature at its best. My shoulders relax, my breastplate pops and my neck releases some of its tension.

It's all temporary. This ease. This gratitude. I'll go back to tossing and turning all night as random, worrisome thoughts appear in my mind - what if I lose my job? What if Paige's car breaks down on her way back to college? What if ... what if... what if.  And for what? Am I able to answer any of these questions while in my pajamas at three in the morning?  And do I even have to try resolving them? 

The human mind is amazing. It solves puzzles while you sleep, it thinks up and answers equations that seem unsolvable, it enlightens and filters and breathes creativity. But left unmanaged, without a heart check, it can ruin you, leaving you lost in a myriad of random thoughts that cannot and will not benefit your life.

The key, at least for me, is to take the worry, stress and randomness and tie it to something tangible - something beautiful like the placid lake or the falling snow or a child's giggle or even a memory. These things promote clarity and with clarity comes gratitude and ease. 

Yet, the week holds more than just a Saturday morning before the dawn of day. The sun will rise, the geese will fly, the squirrels will rest, and the daily news will spin another horrific story. 

But right now, I'll breathe deeply and take it all in again - filling the tank with beauty. 

I wish the same for you.