Just . . . Be

How often do you allow yourself to be?  Just . . . be.

I ask because I can feel myself bonking.  I need to take a mental health day.  In that light, the moment I stepped out of the car tonight after the drive home, I allowed myself to just . . . be.

Normally, my body would unthinkingly follow my mind's unconscious orders to do X, Y, and Z the moment I parked in front of the carriage doors of the garage and turned off the car's engine.


But not tonight.


Tonight, for whatever reason (survival?), I allowed myself to 'be'.  


I took in the feel of the gravel underneath the thin soles of my fun, zebra-striped slip ons as I walked to the house.  The feel of the light rain on and around me.  I sat down in the once-beautiful-but-now-functional Amish rocker that I keep on the front entrance in both the winter and summer.  When was the last time I'd sat in that chair?


The cats crawled around the legs of the rocker, Bonzi jumping into my lap to say hello.  But I didn't follow the Must Do Mandate to pet her - to do for her.  And, perhaps not so oddly enough, she didn't mind.  I took the time to simply BE there, outside in the fresh air on a cool, rainy northern Minnesota night.


I watched Bonzi's ears as she took in the night sounds.  Did you know that cats can move each ear independent of the other?  I hadn't . . . until about an hour ago . . . when I allowed myself the time to Be.


And the animals were quiet.  They all seemed to understand.  They went about their business, but no one barked, no one was needy.


I listened to the rain and looked at the apple trees I'd planted just . . . what was it . . . three years ago?  Two?  How healthy and happy they are . . . and how much I enjoy just looking at them.


While sitting there, not doing, just BEing, I heard that low-ing again.  That wolf.  Or cow.  I still don't know.  :)  I heard it once, twice, and then waited, hoping to hear it a third time . . . but perhaps s/he had settled down for the night.


I came upstairs to change into my uber-comfy fleece robe.  Any other night, I wouldn't have taken the time to enjoy the coziness and warmth that it brought me in the few minutes before bed.  Back at the cookstove in the kitchen, I heated water for a hot drink . . . something I normally wouldn't have given myself the time for, it being so late and close to bed.


I can't explain it adequately enough, but moving through my arrival home & bedtime routine with PURPOSE and awareness and . . . not in the sense of moving in slow motion, but TIME . . . was - and is - invaluable to me.  I only wish I could remember to do this more often, but I suppose it kicked in this time because it IS one of my survival mechanisms.


Anyway, when was the last time you simply . . . WERE?  Aware of your surroundings?  Taking the time to recognize the pings of raindrops falling down the rain gutter as quiet, light mallet strikes on a child's xylophone?


And, what a coincidence:  my desire to take the time, the moment to BE . . . seemed to run parallel with my crusty old laptop's willingness to function.  :)


Whether it be in the comments section here or on your own blog . . . or in your private journal . . . I encourage you to take the time, just once in a while, to BE . . . and then tell us about it.  Or not.  That's the beauty of BEing aware, BEing in the moment:  it's all up to you!