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Today has been a day of working with competing deadlines and juggling a number of responsibilities that have implications for both today and the future. 

I noticed myself trying to look ahead into the future to try to identify a time that I can stop juggling. Or, at least feel like I can stop juggling.

The reality is that it isn’t really about the juggling at all.

It’s about how I am being with the juggling.

When I noticed myself trying to peek into the future to see if I could find a time when I could relax, I realized that I was giving myself over to an old way of being with life.

A way that sort of waits to live, waits to enjoy, waits to relax, waits to be satisfied, waits to feel like everything is okay.

A way that is constantly setting the table for a meal that we never actually sit down to eat. 

We just keep setting the table.

So, when I caught myself in this reactive cycle of waiting to be present until a set of pre-described and self-determined circumstances are met, I was most of the way back Here.

I was most of the way toward resting at ease in the moment even while I was still doing all sorts of things, juggling all sorts of requirements, and balancing life just like every other human on the planet has to do.

This afternoon, my mom stopped by after the kids got off school and we were sitting outside on the patio and I noticed that my mind was again fast-forwarding to the list of things that need to be finished by the time I sleep tonight. Setting the table. Setting the table. Setting the table.

It was a long list. There were a lot of place settings to set. I felt a bit of a pit in my stomach as I heard, “How am I going to get all of this stuff done?”

But, I also noticed the voice. And I noticed the pit in my stomach.

And noticing is really most of the journey back to Here, Now.

In an instant, I was back Here, soaking up the moment with my kids and my mom, feeling the warmth of the sun on our faces, watching crabapple blossoms decorating the yard as a cool east wind blew, reveling in the smiles of my family, absorbing the vibrant energy that my mom seems to give off everywhere she goes, laughing at silly jokes, savoring an ice cream bar, giggling as the dog ran off with an ice cream wrapper and performed her usual escapist shenanigans, and feeling the whole body breathing deeply in and out, in and out, in and out, just being. 

At ease.

After my mom left, I decided that the moment being offered was too good to pass up, so I unfolded a blanket underneath the crabapple tree and lay in the sun, getting lost in a short yoga nidra and returning to the fully waking state feeling revived, revitalized, and at ease.

There’s too much to get done to be done in a restless and hurried manner. 

Life isn’t passing anyone by.

It’s here, now, waiting to be lived.

I’m still setting the table, but I’m doing so with more of a sense of being at ease.

And when it is time to eat, I’ll be ready to sit down to enjoy the meal.

Peace