Tuesday, September 17, 2013

the moments in between ...

Years ago a friend said to me: I jump from this and that when what I really want to know are the moments in between.

Indeed. I know all too well the sensation of being a frog, leaping from one lily pad to another.  I am aware of skipping those liminal moments ... I am becoming aware of what it is I am avoiding by my compulsive busyness.

I am avoiding the discomfort of this moment of stillness and quiet.  While I have craved such, to be in it is hugely disorienting.  I am aware of the sound of the clothes tumbling in the dryer, the hum of the refrigerator, the steady rhythm of my dog breathing as he sleeps by my feet.  I am aware of the glow of the kitchen light, harsh in contrast to the darkness outside.  The false brightness emphasizing the gloominess of the weather and the dimness within me.  

I am aware of the compulsion to be doing something.  The other inhabitants of my home are out in the world and engaged in their tasks while I sit here ... doing what?  Abiding?  Waiting?  

Paying attention.  Trying to grab hold of what constantly slides through my fingers, aware of a shadow at the edges of my consciousness.  I envy my dog his lack of anxiety over what he does or doesn't do.  He simply is.  

I am aware of my defensiveness regarding my day.  The Husband comes home and in a spirit of genuine interest and curiosity asks me, "What did you do today?"  I snidely reply "I sat around eating bon-bons."  I am aware of feeling guilty if I cannot account for myself, my actions, my productivity. But I know too well that busyness and doing does not equal living nor does it make for a satisfying life.

I have joined with the participants in The Gift of Practice in experimenting with a new practice.  I took the advice of David Whyte and am taking the step that scares me, the one I've resisted for much of my life.  I am sitting every day and spending a minimum of 5  minutes watching my breath.  I am not doing, striving, perfecting ... I am attempting to simply be.  Sit. Breathe. Be.

In the process, I am watching the cloaks and hats and labels I've dressed myself in, peeling away one by one.  The longer I sit, the more layers I discover.  Perhaps one day I will come to the end and discover what I've been seeking my whole life: to truly know myself. Just me. Simple, plain, perfect in my imperfections.  Sitting snugly, comfortably within myself. 

If Life is a gift ... and truly, I believe it is such ... then each of us is a parcel of wonder, a treasure to be shared and enjoyed.  I want to sit in that space in between the scattered wrapping paper, torn off bows, savoring the moment of receiving. 

Time to turn off, stop typing and start being ...  


  1. oh....this...yesssss!!

    the excruciating discomfort...oh, i so hear you...it feels all very Final Frontier-ish to me..even though i know there will still be another one once this place is traversed.....

    reaching out my hand across the miles, that we might sit in quiet companionship, savouring the magic...


  2. I am where you are sister....
    exactly in the same place
    can you see me?

    love and light

  3. I have a terribly aversion to stillness and find meditation incredibly difficult as a result. And that snide remark? Yeah. I grokked that. The defensiveness? Yeah. Totally. If I weren't always chasing my own tail with work, I would feel that, too, and I think the amount of work I make myself do is telling.

    This was so good to read. So good.

  4. Lovely! Reminder to continually take the time for unraveling. I have found that when I loosen, unhinge and strip away myself, I get to that shiny happy place. It's all good for a moment and then something pops up that needs to be examined closely and unraveled. Breath work is a good thing. xo