Just yesterday the kids and I were taking a walk through the woods. Charlie was racing ahead of me searching our way through the path and Chanelle was lagging behind informing me that she was too tired to keep walking. The sound of their voices were intermittently drowned out by the chorus of locusts letting us know that they we were invading their territory. The serenade of the locusts was drowned out by the continuous cycle of thoughts playing through my brain.
Just over a week ago I wrote this post spurred by a quote from Walt Whitman. The post indicated my intention to slow down and enjoy these final days of summer. I was going to notice and really be in the big and little moments that occur every day. Oh, in my mind I just knew this focus was going to be life changing. I just knew that I would look back at these days without regret.
The fact is. . . I’ve failed quite miserably.
It was while we were walking through the woods that I was reminded of that post. Chanelle and I had caught up to Charlie as he stood mesmerized by the tiny butterfly furiously fluttering its wings. Finally, after surveying the area, the creature found its place of rest on this yellow flower. There we stood, the three of us in the middle of the forest, watching this little butterfly rest on its temporary perch and I realized how little I had truly slowed down over the last
Like many, we are entering into a time with numerous transitions. We are wading our way through the unknown of many changes, many firsts, and many decisions that need to be made. There is no way around it, the reality of life is change.
The truth is that there are times when slowing down is not an option. I am not a fan of these times.
As one who craves reflection, thought, and swallowing whole the beauty of a moment–weeks like these leave me parched and longing for deep, satisfying gulps of life. Lately it seems that my ability to truly be in and reflect on a moment is trapped somewhere in the deep recesses of my soul.
As we stood among the grandeur of the trees watching this tiny creature I felt a connection. I watched its repeated pattern of wing flutters and rest and was reminded of my own mind. For a moment I can rest on a thought, idea, event, plan–but only for a moment. Without fail, the moment is fleeting and my mind is off to another place.
Perhaps this is writer’s block or thinkers block or slower downers block. Or maybe it’s just avoidance of really slowing down to deal with the reality of transition. Or maybe it’s just the reality of a really tired pregnant lady. I really don’t know. Whatever it is, I trust that this is a snippet of time and somehow I will find my words, focus and thoughts again.
For the time being, bear with me, okay?