In an earlier post I wrote about my morning routine. On weekday mornings I typically get up at 5 a.m., make the bed, do my yoga, energy work, and upper bodywork, then hit the shower and eat breakfast. Most days, I’m at my desk with my second cup of tea by 7 a.m., charged up and ready to roll.
My afternoon routine is when I recharge. After a morning of writing and a break for lunch, I’m usually either done for the day or mentally tapped out by 4 p.m. That’s when I go for a walk. When I’m home my daily walk takes me toward the Hudson River. I walk as far as the park west of Hell’s Kitchen, where I circle through the park before heading home. Unless it’s pouring rain or snowing, or I’m sick, my routine seldom varies. When I’m away from home, my walks look different.
I’m currently staying in Ojai, California, where I’m finishing the second draft of my work-in-progress. The house is lovely and sits on a gated property with pretty landscaping, but it’s situated on a busy road. I hear cars zipping by all day long. It doesn’t bother me when I’m writing—I can tune it out. But when I go for walks it’s hard to ignore the constant flow of traffic.
The first couple days when I went on my walk I gritted my teeth and soldiered on, aware of every passing vehicle and NOT happy about it. On the third day, it occurred to me there was a lesson to be learned here. Our lives are like busy roads when you think about it. Like cars we’re constantly zipping from here to there (if only in our minds when we’re consumed with tasks), seldom pausing to take in our surroundings or smell the roses.
I made a conscious decision to tune out the traffic and pay attention to my surroundings. I noticed the houses along the road and imagined the lives of the people who live in them. In the lulls between the passing of cars, I heard a rooster crowing, birds chirping, a dog barking. I noticed the flowers and fruit trees growing on the roadside or in the yards that bordered it. The loquat tree in the above picture is native to this region, with sweet and delicious fruit that’s impossible to find in stores where I live in the Northeast (too perishable for shipping). I helped myself to some pink peppercorns from a pepper tree (I scatter them over vegetables when I roast them) I breathed in the fragrant scent of roses, honeysuckle, and Matilija poppies. I noticed the little roadside fruit stands where homeowners sell the produce from their citrus trees, payment by the honor system.
After a while, I barely noticed the cars.
It was a reminder to pause and take a breath, look and listen, whenever I’m caught up in the hustle and bustle of my daily life. In the pauses between breaths is where you’ll find the small quiet wonders.
