Small Sips of Air.... my yoga instructor's voice makes it sound soothing and easy even in a stifling bikram room where the latest contortion has my body screaming for relief and my eyes burning with the salty sweat pouring from my forehead. I close my eyes and focus and breathe. Small sips of air, and my mind clings to it like a mantra. ...Small sips of air....
But it's outside that room that maybe I need the most practice. Small sips... it's something I don't do very well. I gulp. It's why I hate ice in my drinks. I sprint, and I speed. I floor it when the light is yellow and hold back road rage when a car is slow. I lunge. I grasp. I overcommit and overextend. I don't do sips very well. But I think there is something to be said for intentionally slowing everything down and taking small sips instead of 7-eleven gulps.
I thought life would ease up a bit with the arrival of Forrest. (easy does it, all you loudly guffawing mothers). I knew I would only work part time and my additional time at home was sure to be just the picture of relaxation. Instead, I feel like a tightly wound top -- and my kid isn't even crawling. I succumb so easily to this culture that teaches you to never be satisfied, to always strive for more, to commit to more activities, to make more money, to get more stuff. There is no time or energy for small sips. And none of the above is bad -- in fact, it can all be good. And believe me, apathy or laziness is definitely not the antidote.
But I find my breath catching in my throat to gaze at my baby's perfect pouty lips the moment he stops nursing when they are still damp and slightly puckered and realize it's the first time I've really drank him in all day. My breath catches when the afternoon rolls on by and I'm more worried about meeting a deadline, my to-do list for tomorrow, or the fact that I haven't worked out yet, than making my little boy giggle. When I just stop and sit and be.... I feel guilty. Why is that? I worry that I'm not progressing more in my career. I worry that the house projects may not give us equal return when we sell. I think I should be taking a few college classes. I should be writing more. I should be gardening more. I should get out and start traveling again. I should, I need, I should, I need. Small sips are hard when life just keeps spinning and spinning. But how much do we miss out on in our never-ending thirst for more? Perhaps it is one of life's greatest ironies that small sips give us the most return. I pray I take more small sips. I pray I don't value these huge gulps so much. I want to be the best I can be and live to my potential; but I don't want to look to the future so much I lose sight of the present. I want to rest in today, and be ok with missing out on things. I want to not get everything done, to not accomplish that next step or succeed in that next opportunity. I want to go against my own rigidly developed grain. For once, I want to sip small sips.
My chunky monkey is snoozing away in his swing (remember, he hardly slept last night either), so I should take advantage of the glorious morning and get some weeding done. I keep holding my breath that maybe, just maybe, spring has arrived. But then invariably we get a frost the next morning, so this is me not holding my breath any more. Maybe my forced nonchalance will aid in holding the long tentacles of Winter at bay.
