taking the time
A couple of my friends refuse to use microwaves. They’ve never lectured their stance, but one politely asked that I use a kettle for a quick cuppa when she popped over several months ago. After that one time I thought I’d see just how many things could wait a little longer, could be thought of ahead of time, could be given the needed portion of my day to prepare before sipping or chowing down.
Coffee needs a warm up? Take it to the stovetop. Loaded baked potatoes for dinner? Better get cracking on the scrubbing and oiling and preheating to eat on time. The time-taking has turned some hub of our home moments into dedicated readying versus a hurry up and doing. The thinking ahead has turned the focus to the experience of preparing versus the sometimes rushed pace of the eating.
“Trust in the slow work of…”
The skies today are grey, there are flakes falling in snowglobe perfection, and I am in my happy space of quiet while sweet potatoes simmer on the range. I’m hungry, the coffee’s dwindling, but I’m biding the cook time knowing that flavors are just like my Dad’s gin rummy hand—they deserve the time to meld.
January’s not everyone’s favorite. It’s not my favorite. But I appreciate the Mama Bear (heated) cave of hibernation that the cold brings. As a holiday season chaser, I crave this time to recharge, tuck in, and give myself a window to think on what I want the year to bring, what I hope to see bloom come spring. I love living where all seasons can be experienced (sometimes in a single day).
Another friend talked last year about how her January ‘resolution’ was to focus on a word throughout her months ahead. What could be her theme or her something to circle back to as she encountered people or situations that filled up, tempted to drain, or complemented her spirit? I loved the idea. I appreciated the logevity of its potential. I could see that sort of effort being something that goes the distance beyond eating or exercise habits that ebb and flow. I walked and read and reflected and soon settled on a word that kept finding me.
“your ideas mature gradually—let them grow…”
Not every lunch hour can allot for the slow prep of a meal. A morning with a harried pace from an oversleep can zap exchanges with loved ones or wreck the peace of solitude craved. But recognition of what went well and what maybe could go better is what matters. The ability to not fight what was and instead focus on what can be is where the living takes place, where the humor is found, where the outlook is bright.
“…as though you could be today what time will make of you tomorrow.”
My hope for this year is one of mindful living. My wish is to be in the now for today’s stepping stone toward tomorrow. In the words of Mother Teresa,
“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
Mindful of the words we use. Mindful of the food we prep. Mindful of the breaths we so fortunately get to take.
Mindful of the distractions that keep us from connecting. Mindful of the emotions fueling efforts, hurts, or joys. Mindful of the sips and bites we crave and need. Mindful of a good sweat or a cry that renews and releases.
Mindful of a friend's infectious laughter. Mindful of the ask of a child. Mindful of the comforting presence of a loved one near.
Mindful of the clouds conspiring with the sun.
Mindful of the moonlight beaming down.
Mindful of the space we call home. Mindful of the road on which we travel. Mindful of how our living reflects the gift of simply being.
quote excerpts from:
Patient Trust
by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ