9:22

9:22 am -

Dishes waiting. Laundry sitting. Writing pressing. But all I hear is the blissful silence of solitude. It is such a welcome respite from the chaos of the weekend that I hardly dare to disrupt its peaceful invitation to just sit and bask in its presence.

Silence is a longed for guest in the home of my heart, but all to often its invitations get blown away in the gusty winds of driving ambition. It is difficult to sit in the silence when your inner voice automatically moves to the mode of chaos management, listing carefully off all of the tasks to accomplish before some arbitrarily placed deadline threatens to create an internal implosion.

Listen. I can hear the clock ticking in the background. I feel the rhythm move in my heart. Is it an indication of time squandered or time savored? In the push to forever get somewhere else, I am missing the moments. The now. The silence that surrounds me in the absence of the rush of the morning, the weekend, the pressing push of time.

What happens at 9:22 in the morning, when instead of washing or sorting or anything, I simply sit? I'll tell you what happens. Acknowledgement of my own simple existence. Understanding of my singular importance within the spinning world of wonder. Recognition that my quiet self, my simply beating heart, my breath in and out, are enough. I am a wondrous creation, excepting any accomplishment or lack thereof.

To sit is to simply be. To marvel at my eyes that can see beauty, my mind that can recognize truth, my heart than continues to bring life to every portion of my body without any conscious effort.

In the stillness.

May I seek your company more readily, welcome guest. You rarely come uninvited, unintended. Your presence brings calm and respite. You must visit more often.

It is 9:22. You have somehow found me this morning.

I softly open the door to my heart.

Please, come in.

Another Blog

For my readers who may be interested more in my faith, I will also be posting at www.praiseworthywords.blogspot.com.

Thanks for listening!

I Lost My Balance

I was careening through my living room with the vacuum cleaner blaring. I had a class to teach at my home in just twenty minutes, I was still in my pajamas and had assigned my five year old son to do the dusting. He was dutifully dusting the bottom of the end table when I turned quickly, knocking over the lamp. As I rushed to save it from its impending doom, I started to fall myself and accidentally stepped on my son's hand. He started to cry and as I tried to comfort him I said, "I'm so sorry, I lost my balance."

As soon as the words left my mouth I recognized the depth of them. Boy, had I lost my balance. I am getting ready to move - again. For those of you who have enjoyed the tranquility of stability, let me assure you that moving to a new place can be exciting, but it is also one of the most stressful things a family can experience. With it comes lists of minor repairs, projects, sorting, packing and decluttering. Last weekend we started with the garage, clearing out all the muck and dust and unused items, sending all the sneeze inducing offenders to goodwill or storage. I caught the bug that day, the 'muck it bug' I call it. I reach a point in every move that I see everything as clutter and want to get rid of or organize every item we own. It can do wonders for showing your home, but it can also wreak havoc on your sanity. I worked for hours and hours this week, clearing out closets, thinning out bookshelves and sorting through clothing. My house is a showpiece, my soul is a mess.

You see, I got so driven to accomplish this 'very important task' that I forgot about all the other things that are important to me. I didn't spend much quality time with my family, outside of loading or unloading boxes from the truck. I didn't go to my yoga class at all this week - my haven of physical and emotional balance. I didn't read. I didn't write. I didn't eat well. I didn't sleep well. But man, my closets are clean!

I'm convinced that I have to learn this lesson again and again and again. For whatever reason, my intrinsic drive often pummels over my internal voice of balance and contentment. In yoga when we practice our balance poses, we have to concentrate dutifully but in a relaxed state or we fall over. That's not fun when you are standing precariously on one foot or upside down in a headstand. We must remember to breathe or the tension creates imbalance which can lead to injury.

I keep coming back to balance - this art of learning what to let go of, what to hold onto, when to breathe and when to rest. My body is begging for it. My soul is requiring it. My sanity depends on it.

Maybe one day it won't take a frenzied household appliance and a careening light fixture for me to recognize it.