Being Here

Sometimes on my morning strolls with Copper I look around at the familiar houses and yards, and catch my breath at the loveliness. It's the slight roll of the land, the trees turning yellow and gold, the shaggy white miniature daisies that border the common land garden. 

This is not to say I live in some magical place, some beauty spot. It's a subdivision in a suburb of Washington, D.C., (are there enough "subs" there?), one of hundreds. We love it for the sense of community we found from the beginning, and love it more now because it's where the girls grew up. 

But what I was responding to this morning (and do so often these days) is the natural world that is more present now than it used to be. We have lost much during this pandemic — but one thing I've gained is a greater appreciation of this small patch of land where I find myself. 

It's where I am most of the time now. And it's not a bad place to be.

Breathing

If someone asks me a few months from now how I got through the quarantine,  I will say, well, I kept breathing. This will sound flippant and I won't mean it to.  It's not just that I kept breathing. But I've kept breathing.

The italics are important. They denote not just the unconscious, staying-alive kind of breathing, but also the breathing that's suggested in guided meditations and yoga classes, which I've been taking plenty of these last several weeks.

This is focused breathing, in-and-out-through-the-nose breathing or sometimes in-through-the-nose-out-through-the-mouth breathing. It's putting one hand on my heart and one hand on my stomach and feeling the breath moving through my body. It's becoming aware of the rise and fall, the inflow and outflow.

I'm a remedial meditation student, but I am learning to appreciate the power of deep breathing to settle the mind and calm the body. Breathe in, breathe out. Ah, that's better.

Finding the Source

I'm skipping the cherry blossoms at the Tidal Basin this year, an annual ritual I haven't missed in 10 years. This is in part because of the cold-stunted blooms this year and in part because I can't easily walk to the show.

But cherry blossoms are everywhere. Even on my 12-minute walks around the block. And I'm not the only one who notices.

It's not a matter of traveling to the source, but of finding the source wherever you happen to be.