BEING

Sometimes we are so busy getting to where we are going, we forget to enjoy where we are.  Last night, I felt exhausted from all the details of my leaving. I was probably ‘grey with exhaustion’ when I walked through the door of my townhome. I walked right past my housemate Annie, making a beeline through my great room for my bedroom haven.  “I can’t talk. I need quiet; I need to sleep.” And then I shut the French doors and the world out of my bedroom.  It was only 8:30.

This morning I felt rested and immediately my mind starting making lists.  So many things left undone.  I felt my anxiety rise again.  I could also hear the birds, excitedly chattering away at the imminent arrival of Brother Sun from behind the ridge to the east.  I could hear them exchanging news that THIS day is special, THIS day is beautiful. Can’t you feel it already? THIS day the seed will be fresh and flavorful, THIS day Junior will finally leave his nest and FLY!

Sometimes we get so very good at Doing, we forget about Being. This morning, the birds seem particularly passionate in their calling me out to enjoy Being.

On a morning such as this, my back garden is not the quiet sanctuary you might think one needs to Be. My townhome sits high above what we desert-dwellers call a ‘wash’ which drains from the Catalinas through the ridges of my foothills into the city's valley below. A wash, first and foremost, serves as a critter highway the year round. Sometimes in the spring and fall but mostly during our monsoons, the sandy channel carries wild, rushing rain draining from the Catalinas to the usually dry river bed below.  This combination provides endless opportunities for the wildlife in my neighborhood; the wash is their lifeblood.

My wash is magical. Right now, the wash is still verdant from our few spring rains. Around me, small blossoms still hang on the trees and bushes.  Tiny yellow flowers for the Palo Verdes (literally translated Green Trees); white waxy blooms on my fragrant garden jasmine; delicate purple on my neighbor’s lacy crepe myrtle. Generous white blooms erupt from the Saguaro. I spy tiny fluffy yellow balls of pollen on my bright green leafy lysiloma.

I am waiting for my ‘Doing’ gene to kick in but, with my feathery friends’ help, my ‘Being’ gene is winning. The birds call to me “What a beautiful morning! Life is good! Let’s enjoy it and sing.” I move to the back garden and my ears nearly burst from bird song.  The morning is still cool but the warmth on my cheek reminds me that Brother Sun is relentlessly and rapidly making his strides across the cloudless sky.

Behind me I hear an ardent woodpecker broadcasting his availability on my neighbor’s roof flashing.  The neighbor to the north announces his awakening to the chattering throng with his very practiced and believable ‘bob white’ whistle, letting the birds know he is scattering seed on his patio and is ready to be entertained.  The shadows on the Catalinas play hide and seek with the rising Brother Sun.

I breathe. I rest with my eyes closed. I can’t completely relax because the birds' cacophony is so very noisy but I am complete. I am one with my universe for at least a few seconds. THIS day is special, THIS day is beautiful. THIS day is to savor slowly and mindfully like the best Swiss chocolate. Can’t you feel it already? THIS day is one to breathe in.