Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut

Sometimes you don't. Today I'm an Almond Joy. A little nutty. My dog is a little nutty as well. We have new French doors, which I've kept open so he can run in and out at will. He's discovered a chipmunk that he chases up one of the drain pipes. Then he runs around the yard like a dog on crack. All morning while I've been working he's run up and down the stairs to the loft. At the top of the stairs he looks at me with great anticipation. I'm working. I'm not stopping my day to run outside with him or take him for yet another walk. Mostly because working from home is a privilege and I have much to accomplish.

Fortunately, he's just looking for permission to head outside and start his running and chipmunk stalking all over again. Boy, does he make me tired.

But the joy in his little doggy face when he starts down those stairs at breakneck speed and then laps the yard while searching for something, anything to chase, that joy floors me. He takes such pleasure in the moment. He is fully present. Fully engaged. Fully alive.

I can't say the same for myself. In the last few weeks I can't pinpoint when I was last fully living in the moment. My brain is always thinking ahead to the next step in the project, the next engagement, the next something. Or I'm ruminating about the past and tearing things apart to understand motivation, reactions or how I can do things differently the next time. I analyze. Over analyze.

I put the computer down and stood out on the deck and watched Velcro Dog do his thing. And consciously let the rest go. I didn't stuff the to-do list into that dark corner of my mind where it sits and grows and rumbles and taunts. I just let it go, trusting that I had either written down the important things or the to-dos would come back to me later. I sipped some tea and for 15 minutes I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh, slightly crisp air and breathed out the shadows that hang over my shoulders, those silent sentinels that poke and prod me into analysis mode or into a worrying planning dervish. I just let them go. Breathed. Smiled. Sipped.

And listened to the tinkle of Velcro Dog's collar as he sped past me on his laps around the yard.

Sometimes I feel like a nut. I'm learning that when I do it's time to be present - fully and completely - in the moment. I have my nutty dog to thank for that insight. I hope his joy abounds forever.