In the past few weeks we've had severe storms that have, in the span of five minutes, swooped in and toppled large trees in our yard .
One minute, sky clear, then suddenly a quick darkening and heavy air, followed by rain and gail force winds. The last storm ripped through a narrow swatch of land, downing trees and outing the power in our neighborhood. Not a mile away, the sun was shining, everything untouched.
We lived with the mess for a good ten days, unable to find the time to devote to cutting and clearing the broken trees. It was a big project...
But Saturday morning, Michael was up and moving, chainsaw in hand; we began the work. It couldn't have been hotter but the effort was worth it.
Two truck loads later in Big Blue,
and the yard was breathing again.
"It feels so good to have that done," I said last night.
"It had to be done," Michael said.
"But it feels like more than trees were cleaned up. It feels like blocks were removed. I just feel a whole lot better. I can breathe."
All to say that sometimes the best thing to do, when we don't know what to do, is to tackle what's right in front of us. Sweep the kitchen floor, throw in a load of wash, make the bed, walk the dog, or lift heavy pieces of trees, load in big blue truck, and haul away.
When in doubt, make space.
Your breath should be light, even and flowing, like a stream of water running through the sand. Your breath should be very quiet, so quiet that a person sitting next to you cannot hear it. Your breathing should flow gracefully, like a river, like a water snake crossing the water, and not like a chain of rugged mountains or the gallop of a horse. To master our breath is to be in control of our bodies and minds. Each time we find ourselves depressed and find it difficult to gain control of ourselves by different means, the method of watching the breath should always be used.
- Thich Nhat Hanh
notice where your mind is right now...
if it's scurrying here and there, like the White Rabbit,
try gently saying something like:
worrying worrying
planning planning
thinking thinking
take a long inhale, filling up the belly
then a deep, relaxing exhale,
slowly emptying all the way out.
come back to the breath,
the dog at your feet,
the child in your arms,
the beating of your own heart,
the blue sky...
keep coming back.
I pray, and plead, when I drive these days...
Please stay on your side of the road.
Dear God, get off the phone.
Watch where you're going!
That lady's texting, her car is crossing the line!
Help me get home safely!
It's bad when driving home from a yoga class, completely blissed out, my shoulders are hovering around my ears by the first stop sign.
Just drive.
Get off the phone. Save the party planning, or the business meeting for the driveway, or kitchen table. The I have a headset doesn't cut it anymore. You're still distracted. If you like to wear your headset, put it on while making dinner, fold laundry...Do take it off while making love.
Just drive.
It's against the law to drive without wearing a seatbelt, yet people race down highways and back roads; twittering, emailing, texting, chatting. Getting in the car makes me think I have a death wish. I don't. I've got people to love and things to do. And way too many books to read.
Just drive.
Lately, when I drive to the store or teach, I have this nagging thought; what if some texting asshole kills me on the way to get milk. I always come back in for one more kiss.
Just drive.
When people call now from their cell phones, I ask Are you driving? If the answer is yes, I say, Call me when you get home. Ouch, I know. Sounds hard, right? I mean, it seems like a great way to connect. You're just driving. It's not a great way to connect. It's a great way to get killed, or kill somebody else. Have I talked on the phone while driving? Yes. Not anymore. I'm done.
Just drive.
If you like doing two things at once...
breathe and drive.
When you arrive home safely, kiss your kid, your husband, the dog, the ground you walk on.
