Day #90: Stop and Smell the Roses

One fourth of the way through this experiment. I have enjoyed getting to know myself more. I have marveled at sudden insight and struggled through posts of little importance. But not once have I not continued the journey; I still don’t know exactly where I am going but I think it’s to the center of my best version of myself… the gentler, more aware, less urgent me.

I read something yesterday that took my breath away because it describes exactly who I hope to become, the way I endeavor to live and love others. I will leave you with it and a picture of my flower that chose to bloom today. Always stop and smell the roses, gentle readers, that is one lesson I have definitely learned in the last three months.

“Beauty is being fully yourself, without being full of yourself. When you share generously of yourself, you are beautiful. When you know the beauty of yourself as you, then you know the beauty of others as themselves. You allow others to discover themselves in and through you, making no claim on them to be a certain way to satisfy your self- interest. Instead, you discover yourself through the play of being. Self and nonself complete each other, and beauty shimmers.”

Walking the Way
Robert Rosenbaum

A pink Lily displayed in a table-top vase.


Venison with a Side of Exhaustion

The Mrs. wrote a short post today about relief. You can read it here, if you didn’t get here through those means.

Relief can come in different ways at times. Sometimes, it’s a relief to have fears confirmed, because at least there is closure. Other times, it’s a relief to find out there is nothing to worry about. I took a walk today, for the Mrs, and as I walked I considered the leaves under my feet, the scents in the air, and I observed the random thoughts that flooded my mind when I let down my guard.

I walked to the Mrs.’s mother’s house to fetch an armload of venison that was to be prepared for when she got home from her very long day of counseling, teaching, and foster-care interviewing. I considered the warm welcome I got when walking into “Mimi’s” home. Two smiling faces, welcoming me with cheer. Two happy dogs eager to receive my affection. Oh, and an arm-full of assorted venison.

As I departed, my heart was full with this thought: Home is a beautiful thing. It knows no geographical location, nor is it limited by any physical constraints. Home is where they love you.

The walk home was filled with thoughts of all that needed to be done. Anxieties were fully felt, and I allowed them to pass by. Again I focused on yellow tree leaves under my feet, the smell of burning wood in fireplaces, and the bite of the cold on my lips.

I acknowledged the perfection in nature.

I appreciated the work those trees did in producing that leaf that now lies dead up the blacktop. I appreciated the scent of smoke from the trees that now serve a different purpose. In those few moments, I chose also to appreciate myself and those around me.

Why? Because I’m actually alive. And in choosing to appreciate, I’m choosing to acknowledge the incredible work that goes into even one element of order in this world. One successful relationship, one completed project, one well-deserved evening of exhaustion.

And as the Mrs. and I ate our venison and veggies, we appreciated the light cast from our Christmas tree. We appreciated the savory flavors and aromas from our meal. And most of all, we appreciated the presence of a fellow world-worn sojourner.

We found life in our shared experience… of exhaustion.