When I’m tired, when I feel drained I go outside and put my bare feet on the ground. I sit and look at the trees, watch them move in the wind, listen to the rustling of leaves. It feels like something inside of me is swaying with them, dancing beautifully.
The sounds of nature goes into me, heals me. I used to be so tired of the city. I’m glad we moved to the country.
During the meditation retreats that I used to attend, we would go for long walks and then sit a few moments in the forest. I wanted to stay there forever. I wanted to cry in relief at hearing only nature again. No cars, no shouting, no mechanical sounds of machines working.
I wanted to lie down and hug the earth, to feel it seep into my soul, nourish me, ground me. But I was too shy to do so, and remained sitting until we had to leave.
Now nature is at my doorstep, yet I don’t visit it often enough. There is so much to do and I measure a successful day in how many tasks I have completed.
And yet as I drank my tea this afternoon, my mind and nerves still buzzing with activity, I looked out the window at the trees and everything suddenly fell into perspective. It was as though I had forgotten there was a world beyond my own thoughts and worries.
Going deeper than my anxiety, the need to stay busy and get things accomplished, I was struck with the yearning to keep looking. What if I did that all day? What if all I did was to look at things, notice them fully, take in their beauty?
I knew I would feel guilty for not finishing my list of tasks, at the same time I was moved with the understanding of how valuable it was to take time to look at things, notice life.
And the more I look the more interesting things become. What if I could have the same enjoyment chopping vegetables for dinner? Just being there, having nothing on my mind, nor being interesting in anything but chopping vegetables. Being present in life, my life, the one that will pass me by if I’m not truly here.
There is a simple peace in being here, right now. What a relief it is to just be here.