What’s the weather like? How are you feeling as you read this? Are you in a hurry? Your mind already on your schedule – your agenda? Are you in pain, or feeling refreshed? Is it morning, afternoon, or evening?
What’s going on right this minute?
Last night I got home from a family celebration. I walked into my quiet house, tired out from the drive. I saw food past its prime in the fridge. I saw all the work I haven’t done. Newspapers collecting. The lawn not mowed because the mower’s in the shop. The bills in a pile waiting for me to make time to pay them. The dust collecting in the corners. Yeah, I saw it all.
And I didn’t just see that. I thought about the other stuff not done that I couldn’t see. The blog posts not written. The podcast episode not outlined yet, never mind recorded. The book I haven’t worked on. The vocal exercises I haven’t done. The exercise I’ve postponed to do something urgent.
Then there’s the big one – a life-changing decision weighing heavy on my heart right now. One where I know what I have to – and want to – do, and am trying to get up the courage to do it. Because the future looks fuzzy, I'm finding it hard to just leap.
So when I walked into my house, I picked up all that. I felt so heavy. Every room I went in had reminders of the heaviness. Brown food in the fridge. The pile of papers in the den. My lawn showed me an overgrown jungle. The office had the bills. And they weren’t even on the desk because there wasn’t any room there. The bathroom had the dust. The living room had the vocal exercises book. Undone stuff everywhere. Heavy everywhere. Nowhere to rest.
I wandered from room to room, trying to find a place where I could feel lighter, free to simply be. I couldn’t find one. I put on some music and started dancing. Suddenly I was crying. Hard. Dancing had touched an emotional place. I had felt the heaviness lift some, and noticed the difference. And realized just how heavy I felt. How weighed down by everything to the point it felt crushing.
I danced some more, just to feel my body move. To bring my attention to the present. Then I lay on my yoga mat and asked this question, “What’s going on right this minute?”
My body answered. “I’m breathing. Safe. Comfortably warm. The air smells delicious. I’m surrounded by things that I love. And I’m healthy. Loved.”
All that other stuff? It was there. And it does need attention. But it wasn’t and isn’t all there is. The beautiful stuff is there too. Every minute of every day. I had to choose to see it. And not just see it. Feel it in my body and soul. That’s what gave me a lighter step. Let me sleep without feeling like a 5-ton weight was crushing my chest.
I woke this morning feeling heavy, and did it again. Asked the question, “What’s going on right this minute? What am I grateful for?” That reset my focus to the birds chirping, the shining sun, the scent of lilacs wafting through my slightly open window. And I sprung out of bed, leaving that weight behind.
Time to turn it back to you. What’s going on right this minute? Right now as you read this post? Not what happened yesterday. Or even a minute ago. Not what you have to do in 5 minutes, 5 days, or next year. Right this minute. What’s your body doing? How’s your heart? What’s happening outside? What’s happening where you are?
If you’re anything like me, what’s actually going on is WAY better than what’s in your head. The weight of responsibility. A conversation you’re dreading. Waiting for the celebration that’s 2 weeks away.
How about we agree together to check in regularly and ask, “What’s going on right this minute?” Not in the big, wide world. Not in politics. Right where we are. In this sacred moment.
Are you with me? If so, share in the comments what you noticed when you took just a minute to focus on this moment. What you saw. Heard. Smelled. Felt.