rabbit tracks in the Berkshires
How enchanting is that polaroid above? I swear they take me, not the other way around.
Sitting here in the morning sunshine, the cat gazing at me with one paw resting on my jeans, and the house quiet after a raucous show involving a rottweiler and his favorite squeeky tennis ball, I think over the list of things to do swirling around my head. I do this every morning.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood*
And that's me ~ the long stooding part. I think and think and weigh and measure, because I simply haven't got enough time in the day to do all I want to do, all that "needs" doing. All I envision.
Last week I went to Kripalu (center for yoga & health) in the Berkshire mountains of massachusettes for a couple of days. I went for a change of scene, to eat their marvelous food, drink a dozen cups of tea, sit and write in front of the mountain-facing windows, go for snowy hikes and steam in the sauna. It was a beautiful time. The place was heated, the meals served, the room simple, and the mountains stunning. I did not have to cook or clean or buy anything. Even there, though, I noticed the feeling that I wanted to do it all. (Oh, no ~ this mentality is not confined to home.) I wanted to go to a yoga class and write and hike and check out the lake and I wanted to do it all now.
But I can't do it all now.
And the question arises: Am I soaking in what I am doing/ being/ experiencing? Or am I just skimming along to get to the next thing? Cause if I don't sink into it, I'm often going to be searching for the next thing that'll give me that feeling of satisfaction, of completion. A third dog, a bigger garden, a child, beehives, learning to knit, buying a plane ticket, a year-long membership to the art museum (cough.) Once the kitchen is painted ~ the house cleaned ~ once we plant the seeds ~ once I learn how to can. Following this philosophy, I'll only be happy after I'm dead.
I'm often leaning forward out of this moment and grasping at the next. Why is it so hard to soak in what I have? Does it feel like I'm settling? Is my happiness only fulfilled in the future?** Do I expect to be happy all the time?
I don't really have a great answer. I guess it's an ongoing question.
What are your thoughts? How do you keep focused on what you already have?
*from Robert Frost
**I recommend Hector and the Search for Happiness. Good book.