Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Present gifts

Pants - check, Jacket - check. Car locked - check.
The others have already arrived. I rush down the steps and greet everyone. In my haste I answer, "I am great!" There is a niggling in the back of my head. 'No, I'm busy,' I think, but do not say.
We get the boats out, I less than patiently wait through the review of information, for my turn to get my boat in last. Finally giving up and lifting it myself despite the instructions not to. But I know I can lift the boat and I know I want to get going.

Settling onto the water with the evening sun gleaming through the clouds, I slow my pace to allow the others to catch up. Ian arrives first. "It doesn't get any better than this," he offers. I look around. As if for the first time that day, I stop trying to go somewhere. I allow myself to just be on the water following someone else.

It only lasts for the paddle. As we head back, I am thinking of retrieving my son, getting him to bed, the dog, the cat and the enjoyment of a glass of wine to slow the pace and close the day. I haven't eaten yet either.

As I awoke this morning, in the fog of sleep, the thought came that having the glass of wine was a part of a checklist. It is as if there is no conscious awareness of whether this is what I want, rather I operate on a kind of routine checklist of things to get done between getting out of bed and crawling back in.

Maybe there are just too many things on my checklist and I need to start paring it down - perhaps after lacrosse season. Or maybe I need to practice real presence - which I feel I get to do when I write. Thank you for reading.

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