May 11th, 2016

egg stone

Slowing down -

I've been pretty much housebound with my broken, tender feet, but yesterday the cupboards seemed bare, and I was enticed and motivated to drive down to Good Earth, our wonderful new grocery store less than a mile away.  I chose a quiet time, parked, and slowly made my way into the store.  People passed me with comments, curious, and they passed me. The faster they went, the slower I went, as though each step was the greatest gift, and it is, and the more I slowed as I navigated the handicapped ramp, the more I felt the caress of a curious breeze.  "Oh, here you are," it said.  "I feel you", and my heart was stroked. Even now, I feel the probe, the changing navigation of molecules in air.  I was touched here, and here, and here, and all over I was shook, shaken awake to what surrounds in and out of the luxurious living that is I.

The environment and I were one, and the slower I went, the more I felt the entrance of what was around me, not entrance exactly, though now I consider that word - en trance - yes, perhaps that - Each step such a miracle, such a gift.  I could have walked up that ramp forever, and, of course, after shopping, there was the coming down.

This morning, I splurged on organic blueberries, carefully chosen, stems plucked, mixed in a generously shaped white bowl with a thick vanilla yogurt.  I sat down on the couch to eat and look out on the ridge embraced right now in fog.  I tasted each blueberry. Each one had its own taste and texture.  Each one had absorbed it's own amount of ripeness and sun.  No two blueberries are alike, no two moments.

I am continually with the words of the Dalai Lama when asked about his happiest moment.  "I think, now."

I sit here now, expanded on slowness, swirled in and through happiness, like blueberries in yogurt, grateful to be, grateful for feet, and grateful for connection we share.