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The beauty of little things. Doing the dishes. Making a bed. Cleaning a bathroom. Tidying up the living room. Folding laundry. You can rush through them, or you can take your time. Be methodical. Concentrate solely on the task at hand. Let nothing interfere. Lately, I’ve embarked on the latter course. It soothes my tortured brain, which for years had operated on high alert, anticipating problems, solving problems, reacting to problems.
Now, I try to see each thing I do as the most important thing. Take watering the plants. I used to rush. It seemed so tedious. Now. I fill the water can at the rain barrel. Walk to the plant. Tip the can. Watch the rainlike water fall. Notice the sun glinting off the drops. Hear the sound of the water hitting the ground. See the ground turn moist. Look at the morning sun on the sumacs. See the mesquite leaves wave in the wind. Feel the breeze on my face. Then I do it again for each plant in turn.
I no longer need the racing brain. I no longer need to be the anticipator. A big love has come and gone. I did my part, and I survived. But that was then, and this is now and I’m walking a new path. And I can see clearly in the little things that love still remains. It’s in my children, in their children, in my friends and their children, in me, and in the world around me. All I need to do is embrace it when I find it one piece at a time the only true treasure life has to offer.