Breathe Deep
Not so very long ago, I walked into the room, closed the door and sat down. Took a deep, deep breath and realized that it was the first time all day that I had taken a moment to breathe deeply, and be still. My body vibrated from ceaseless motion, my feet tingled, my ears rang in the silent room. I rolled my neck and massaged my shoulders. Wow. So tight.
Then I took another breath and realized that perhaps the restroom was not the best place to savor deep inhalations through my nose.
Did I need to slow down for a minute, drag my focus from the grindstone and look up?
Yes. Definitely. Because in my frenzy to do more and go farther and meet my goals and follow my dream and be there for my family and reach for the future and organize my life and track my fitness and boost my creativity and—and—and—
Sometimes my compass points in so many directions I lose track of my destination.
And then, wisdom echoes my mother’s words and I realize it’s time to put the race on pause. I have to stop. Be still. Because beyond the goals, the computer, the clock, and the calendar, there is the murmur of water ambling among the stones in a creek bed. There are sighs and whispers in the trees. The songs of birds early in the morning. If I listen, I can hear the still small voice of eternity singing through the earth, and regain my bearings.
Facing the transition from one career to the next this past year, I knew I had to take the time to reset my compass so I could embark on this new path in the right direction.
And then, BOOM! The pandemic.
Sorry, but that was a lot like taking a deep, deep breath in a public restroom.
Even so, it might have worked.
It reminded me how very fragile and precious life is.
How very important we are to each other.
How a home is not meant to be just a place to bunk for the night, but a haven and a comfort, and those qualities are not achieved without time and effort.
That being able to live without every second dedicated to nonstop activity is a valuable skill for both children and adults to learn.
That cooking from scratch is satisfying on a deeper level.
That both joy and dreams are worth actively pursuing, and love is a choice we make over and over and over.
I guess we never really know if our compass is pointing to true north, or if the path we’re on is the best one. I don’t, at least. But I do know that when things are spinning out of control, rushing headlong is dangerous for me. Because the ringing in my ears drowns out the stories, priorities lose their rightful place, my dreams get lost in the dust, and I race blindly past beautiful moments without ever looking up.
I’m going to try to remember to check my trajectory a little more often, to avoid getting so off track that it takes thirteen months or a global pandemic for me to redirect.
And I’ll pick the place I choose to take a deep breath a little more carefully.
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