Three minutes that turned my whole day around (and gave my dog a panic attack.)
Before I started writing this morning, something came over me. I decided it might be a good idea to sit and meditate for, say, 3 minutes...long enough to calm whatever was still stirring inside of me from yesterday. It wasn't even a whole second of sitting down in lotus pose on my breakfast room floor before my dog Hampton started panicking. I imagined he must have been thinking some version of Why isn't she moving? She stopped moving??? Is she still ALIVE??? He began ferociously sniffing me everywhere as I tried my best not to open my eyes and welcome the distraction. As the sniffs quieted down, I opened my eyes to see where he might have gone, and then there they were: his two eyeballs not even two inches from mine, his nose hardly a millimeter from my nose, his whole face just totally perplexed and staring at me. He couldn't understand: mom never calms down. WHAT'S GOING ON?!?!
I couldn't help laughing out loud before I tried to re-engage my morning meditation. Hampton finally resigned himself to having a momentarily still parent and rested his head softly in my lap. There he was, the dog that I probably tackle 10 times a day to steal hugs from, willingly snuggling up to me. I was still and without force, and just like that, all the unconditional love in the world arrived literally at my feet.
Of course I thought about the power of letting life come to me, instead of wildly chasing after it like a headless chicken. Everything I need is usually right there, at my feet. If I stop and breathe long enough to let it come to me, it usually does.
I sit here writing with one of many unfolded piles of laundry behind me, a full dishwasher waiting to be unloaded, open jars littering our kitchen and three dogs waiting for there next walk (we're dog-sitting for two.) There's lots to be done, and there always is, so I'll do the only thing I know always makes "a lot" feel like a lot less: a little bit of nothing.