I thought I was living consciously, well at least more than
most people allow themselves to do. I do
not have to be reminded to be “mindful.”
I am a Type Double-A if there is such a thing. I am mindful of details to the nth
power. I have held my dog so close that
I have felt her heartbeat – and that is profound. When I meet people, I try to get a sense of who
they are as individuals and don’t brush them off casually. I really do try to “hear” another person…
even though I myself am a big talker. Perhaps
I make some uncomfortable when I am observing their face as they talk to
me. I’m not aware if it is staring or
not. I am just taking-in the whole picture. I don’t want to miss anything. Maybe I’m odd. Or maybe I just watched too much Columbo. “Excuse me Ma’am. I appreciate what you are saying but this
thread I found on the carpet does look a lot like the color of your scarf. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” I am a detailer.
And yet I have become aware that there is still another
layer of life that I was missing due to the incessant preoccupations that being
a productive member of society places squarely upon my shoulders. Like, for instance, I didn’t notice until the
other day that goats have rectangular shaped pupils. So if you are going to paint or draw a
picture of a goat and you keep messing up the eyes it’s because you probably gave
them black, circular, people-pupils, instead of rectangular goat-pupils. It could be as simple as that.
My heightened awareness in detail seems to have come about
as I have been spending less time driving places (to work, to meetings, to church,
to shopping) than is customary. Like the
rest of America, I am social-distancing.
But I’ve got to say that as a single person, it’s not the big shock to
my system that it seems to be for everyone else. The other factor is, a few years ago my
social circle constricted due to an unfortunate event that put me on the outside
and a lot of other people remained where they were. THAT was my rude awakening to experiencing
social-distancing. I believe the Amish
call it more properly: “shunning.”
I live in a small town and running into some of the past was
inevitable. It just surprised me that people
who stood at my side for seven years in ministry seemed to evaporate into thin
air. They didn’t call to see if I was
okay or if life was moving on (it really wasn’t, I was very hurt). I guess it was politically inexpedient to remain
my friend? I ran into people outside the
drug store that did not greet me by name and walked past me. I sat in a restaurant and watched a couple I
knew at the counter picking up their pizza.
I looked across from where I was sitting maybe eight feet away and waved
discreetly. The wife leaned into her
husband and covered her mouth like a high school kid and whispered something to
him. They smiled and walked out with their
pizza…. As if I wasn’t left with the feeling that the shielded-whisper had to
do with me? Really, I may be a lot of
things, but I am not the Village Idiot.
I don’t say this for anyone to feel sorry for me. I just throw this out on the table to say
that I expected better of people. And
now here we are, doing the social-distancing thing. And those people are in their homes with
their spouses and children and I am still alone with the dogs…. which is fine
with me. Be scandalized if you like, but
I don’t even miss going to church. People
act like it is the end of the world; it isn’t, yet. The Lord has been a faithful companion to me
through way more than this 3 weeks of working at home, enjoying my land and
dogs, and trying to keep my whole self in tune.
I’m good with this.
The other day I walked the dogs at the farm next door. I keep one dog on the purple lead because
that is the one I need to always have a grip on; the other dog is on the red
lead and walks a little better.
Sometimes they criss-cross in front of me and the leads end up all
twirled around each other and I have to stop and untangle them. No big deal.
As we walked, a hawk circled overhead.
I was aware that my pace was rather quick and driven. Then I began to think, “what the heck is my
hurry?” I stopped. The dogs sat.
I looked directly up and got to admire a perfectly beautiful underside
of the hawk. It had a light yellow hue. It also had a brown mark like a “V.” I stood there as long as I could to continue
to study his circling pattern, and then he flew southwest and seemed to
vanish. But I was able to study the
details of his beauty only because I realized that I DIDN’T HAVE TO RUSH
AWAY. That is so important. That moment you finally realize, hey, this is
in MY control – to hurry or to linger. I am so grateful that the rest of America is
taking this giant time-out (for obviously sad reasons) but we can all use it to
get off the stupid hamster wheel.
As I continued along with the dogs, meandering back to the
house, I glanced at the trees to my right.
They are pussy willows! I love
pussy willows and hadn’t seen them in years.
Guess why.
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