The only thing constant is change. My commitment to keep up with my “blog” entries was superseded by my commitment to care for myself, which in this case meant stepping back for awhile from many of my professional obligations – resting, re-balancing and recovering from a couple of pretty intense, non-stop years. So (almost) without apology, I now return to this writing. Because I want to, not because I “should!”
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While writing my Fall Newsletter, recently, I spoke of my choice to honor my body/mind/Spirit’s need to just “STOP!” for awhile, and hence, I reported, I had no upcoming public appearances planned in the near future. I hastened to add, though, that I was certainly not just sitting here “twiddling my thumbs”.
Writing that phrase led me to pause and actually twiddle my thumbs. Surprisingly, I found it to be quite amusing, and enlightening! In fact, I’d highly recommend you take a twiddling break right now. Done with mindfulness, a nice slow, rhythmic twiddle can be a very meditative, calming experience.
Perhaps I understand now why my father, who was a brilliant research engineer, an inventor, would spend hours twiddling his thumbs…much to my embarrassment as a teenager! He would be off in his own little world, with a vacant stare or even closed eyes, his revery accompanied by the gentle, repetitive rhythm of his thumbs slowly going round and round, while perched on the shelf of his modest little paunch.
It is with fondness (and forgiveness of those judgmental teen moments), that I now recall the form of meditation employed by my highly intellectual father, whose world view did not include a “spiritual practice” per se. But it did include a quiet awareness of the natural world and all its inhabitants, and a level of patience I’ve come to appreciate more and more as I’ve matured. What once raised my own impatience, now elicits my deep respect. (Funny how that works!)
So perhaps this is why the simple act of twiddling my thumbs triggered something very deep in me: a present moment awareness that awakened that wonderful sense of “Oh, that’s right. This is what matters…”, as a gentle wave of gratitude quietly filled my mind and heart.
The “to-do’s” will get done. Never all of them. And that’s okay. I AM here. Now.
And in some form, so are you…thanks, Dad.
Namaste.
