Sinking In

My feet are in the warm foot cleanse water, I have 10 minutes left. I close my eyes, sit up straight, put my hands, palms up, on my thighs, and take a few deep breaths. I open my eyes a little and focus on a spot about three feet in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye I see a light yellow butterfly (moth?) flit in front of the window, a crazy swirly pattern, then disappear. I start to compose my blog entry as I sit. Stop. Sit. Breathe. I'm so good to be sitting here, just sitting here. See how good this is when I can just slow down? Stop. Sit. Just breathe.

Slowing down to the speed of life. It is SO not easy for me. 51 years of marathon sprinting to an invisible finish line, acquiring mounds of things that were never enough, focusing on my outside world so that I am hydroplaning my life, skimming along the thin top layer. When I am like that I can't feel my life beneath me and one false move and I can swerve out of control. I HAVE swerved out of control several times, all the time, really. Until now. These past few weeks have become very important to me. I forgot that I was only going to give up red meat for one week, and it's been three already. I forgot to eat any animal protein yesterday; I just didn't want to.

I still struggle with not looking at catalogs or going online; I'm not going to lie to you. Hubby found a dog-eared Nordstrom catalog in the bathroom. Guilty. But I haven't bought anything. I am an addict, I think. I just have to keep going cold turkey. Don't open the catalogs at all. Don't go online. Don't daydream about the next thing that will REALLY make me happy, for REAL this time! I think this deep life is the real deal, and while I casually wonder why I've been avoiding it for so long, I remember a counseling session I had several years ago. My therapist asked me who I would be if I wasn't doing something. "Dead," I said. But 'doing' is overrated, I think, and I'm tired. I like 'being' - it's a still pond with green waterlilies and floating loons. It's a slight breeze rippling the surface and the reflections of pine trees. It's the crackle of the deer through the forest and the breath of the hiding rabbit. I breathe deeply and sink in further.