Don’t miss this (it might not be what you think)
The ground is moving. The earth is spinning. The air is swirling. The light is flying.
It’s all changing.
Unknowns. Unseens. Understand nots.
But.
Don’t miss it.
The birds feeding outside.
The water boiling behind you.
The deep purple of the grapes on the counter.
The bright green of the limes in the bowl.
Nora watching storytime in front of you blowing bubbles into her leftover lemonade. From last night’s desperate dinner drive through.
The sun filling the expanse of the bay window.
Your butt in full on contraction as you stand at the counter typing.
The whisp of a cat who runs up and in.
The clunk of ice cubes.
The voice of your husband filtering up from the basement.
The wind in the leaves of high spring.
The boil in the pit of your belly.
The craving of a chai mid-morning.
The growl of the trash truck outside.
The piles of laundry in the playroom.
Don’t miss it.
See this. Here. Now.
This is the magic.
This is a life. Alive and pulsing and beckoning you to be Here.
There is nothing to wait for.
Even though your shivering chest thinks otherwise.
And your doing mind craves more.
This Now. Allow it.
Pause now.
See. Listen. Feel.
Arrive.
I am grateful for your reading eye. And I’d love to connect with you.
Leave a comment to share 10 things from your Now.
What else is there beyond your first glance, your first listen?
10 things.
20 if you dare.
With gratitude,
Rachel
p.s. If you’re curious about one yoga tool that I used in writing this piece, check out my 90 second video overview of mindfulness. Please excuse the back light. Learning am I. And imperfection is a core value for me. Enjoy.
*A cacophony of birds chirping
*A light breeze moving through my hair; a strand or two tickle my chin
*A husband and wife chatting on a front porch to my left. Her voice sounds excited, but laced with inquiry. The male’s tone is deep and sounds like mumbling. I can’t understand their words – it’s just vocal noise.
*A little boy humming in the yard to my right
*A Mourning Dove singing it’s haunting song
*The HVAC now rumbling over everything, a harbinger of the heat that is coming today.
*I notice the white puffy clouds above ~ floating through the blue sky
*I spy a little brown bird on my black metal fence – twitching it tail, swimming it’s head back and forth seeming to scan the surroundings
*Music now drifts from another yard two houses beyond – no recognizable rhythm
*A screaming child floats in far off in the distance
*Now some agitation felt in my body, a tightening in my jaw
*Now there’s a melding if all noises – a bit like a symphony 🌻
I love it. Thank you for sharing your pause, Alicia.
The whirring of fans in my house…
The quiet from my fountain being turned off
Needing rest…just packed for the beach
Remembering the labor of yard work and the resting on my patio
Hurriedly trying to finish a very long book; just finished a chapter of a son’s reaction of sitting with his mother while dying; shedding tears in remembering my own mother’s death
My body aches for rest
Lots of thoughts/anxiousness about Covid-19
The happy sounds of the birds in my yard and their antics at the suet feeders
Graduation signs of our neighbors’ children…one high school, one college
Feeling the beauty of such a lovely day
The chime of 10:00 on my clock from my mother
Remembering the joy of hearing my sweet Parker telling a couple of small girls in our neighborhood that his daddy can build ANYTHING…he’s an engineer!
Missing hugs from so many loves in my life
Feeling my deep breath as it refreshes me
Feeling gratitude for you, Rachel
So many colors in the moment that you captured, Anna. Thank you for sharing them. Sending big love.
My “pause” at the kitchen window…
A bright shining light beckons me through the trees
The sunlight glistens off the leaves that reflect its light,
Wide, narrow and skinny trunks,
A red hummingbird feeder catches my eye,
A streak moves through the scene…avoiding tree trunks,
Shades of green – blue, yellow, and gray – abound,
Squirrels play tag around a tree trunk,
The leaves come alive with movement from a breeze,
All is right with the world,
There is no sound except my shallow breaths,
Water spots on the window get my attention,
Moving to the green plant inside the window,
My back is tight as I stand and watch,
My right foot turns out and I move to correct it persistence,
Oh yes, my mind is craving my chai tea.
I can see you standing at that window, Betsy. I smile to read this. Thank you for your share.
The quick trickling of water in my nearby water fountain…
many birds chirping and adding to the symphony of daily birdsong
the bluejay catching my eye in the nearby forest of pines
the constant low humming machine noise from major highway construction
the awareness of my own judging mind on my attempts of naming things
one of my feline asking to come outside
mild pain and blocked energy in my neck and back
the titmouse and Carolina chickadee that are loving the sunflower seed in my feeder
slight breeze tickles the right side of my cheek
longing to experience the ocean and beach like never before
Your post touched me, Susan. I see you dancing with what is present both in tangible and in energetic – and how they meet and mingle. I am grateful for you showing up here. It’s so good to see your name!
Thanks Rachel! I have been reading and enjoying your newsletters for some time now. Betsy has shared with me how much she has enjoyed your yoga therapy classes. I do want to be a part of them someday! By the way, I appreciated your sharing the website of a few expert teachers and their perspective on the corona virus; it helped me a lot. Here’s hoping that we can all get the ground back under our feet again soon. Best wishes to you on your continued growth and journey as a healer and teacher 🙂 Susan F.