Fully Present
The woods are mostly quiet. Every now and then, a full gust of wind grabs the top of the trees and shakes them down but I can hear the crunch of my footsteps in the snow. Snowflakes are coming down thick and soft like someone just shook out the lining of a feather pillow. As dusk falls, the river looks dark and cold and takes on a slight sheen as it ices over. Winter is here but it has come gently this year. Meanwhile, a new year is starting up and I intend to look straight ahead into it with my eyes open and my mind clear.
On the first day of the year, I clean out my refrigerator. It’s a good metaphor for beginning anew: start with clean shelves, throw out what you can’t use, keep the good, make something useful out of the the leftover pieces. And then there are the staples that I always keep at hand. I handle each item and deliberately decide what to do with it. I take the time I need for this work. When I’m finished, life feels lighter, less cluttered, more focused.
As the new year starts, I do resolve to drink less coffee and enjoy each cup more. But, generally, I don’t believe in resolutions. I like to set goals for myself and try to follow through but I never let the goal override my life. So often, I forget that my life is about the daily living, the hashing out, the hard task of muddling through. If I look too far ahead, I miss out on the preciousness of each moment and life becomes a zipline with only the destination in sight. So I remember to slow down, to be deliberate, to be fully present to each action I take. I enjoy the process. As the days fly by (it’s already mid-January!), I don’t know where they will take me. And if I don’t slow them down consciously, I will have missed out on so much.
Today, I meet my friend, Margaret, at Embassy Coffee for breakfast. We are into our third decade of these morning get togethers. Every two weeks, like clockwork, we have been gathering for breakfast or lunch. But each time we sit down, we don’t yet know where our conversation will go. And when we part, we set the next date, assuming we’ll see each other again. That hour and a half in between, though, is what really matters. That part where we share deep or trivial thoughts, where we focus on our daily lives, and learn new things from each other, that’s what it’s all about. The joy of drinking good coffee in the presence of a longtime friend and delving beneath the surface of life together, that’s what makes it worthwhile.
Instead of a gleaming goal up ahead, I prefer to look around me and see the preciousness of our sometimes shabby, prickly daily living, and carry the beauty of it in my heart. It grounds me as I reach for the next wobbly step forward.
