Rainy Day Respite

It's a rainy day in late August. Despite the fact that there is much I had hoped to accomplish today, I find it important in this moment to just sit here sipping my tea. The raindrops slipping down my window in their slow, steady way remind me that not everything needs to happen quickly.

Sometimes I need an excuse, like the rain, to stop, to sit, to rest a bit. It seems strange that I often don't just give that gift of time to myself. Some of us need the choice to be wrested from our hands before finally breathing a sigh of relief and pausing our frantic busy-ness.

I meditate each day and have been for years now. The funny thing, though, is how some days I hear the ending gong of my meditation exercise only to realize I have been thinking of other things the entire time. It is really difficult to slow ourselves down, and even if we manage to stop the outer activity for awhile, our brains tend to keep right on plowing ahead with thoughts, plans and worries.

With the rain, I give myself permission to read a little longer than usual, getting caught up in the world of my latest book. Joseph Campbell once said reading a book for pleasure is like giving the mind a much-needed vacation. I wholeheartedly agree. Some of us have minds that are too busy to relax on their own. Reading gives our persistently anxious minds a chance to rest. For me, reading is a cozy rainy day for the mind. 

Diverting Conversation

Today my husband, Gary, and I drove to the end of Spruce Knob Road so we could take a walk on different section of it than we usually do. We parked in a small pull-off across from a field that had recently been hayed. Round bales lay in a haphazard fashion, and an old tractor was parked on the edge of the field near the road. Over the expanse, clouds, puffy and white piled up on top of one another and seemed to be constructed with an eye to setting off the deep blue of the sky. It was a beautiful August afternoon.

When we walk we are often torn between having a deep discussion about something that is on our minds or being quiet so that we can better take in our surroundings. Today felt like a day for silence to me. The beauty of the sky and the fields, the trees in their full summer greenery and the occasional bird flitting by demanded all of my attention.

After we had walked for a while, we came to a stream which had hardly any water. It was unusual to see it so dry, and Gary commented on the news he had read. "Some of the major rivers in Europe are drying up, and out in the Western US they are talking about diverting the Mississippi river to supply water to the drought-stricken Southwest."

I didn't really want to talk about it. Honestly, I didn't want to think about it either. I couldn't help remembering Mary Evelyn Tucker's comment nearly 20 years ago now at a Yale symposium I attended on climate change and the church. She said something to the effect that, if we didn't preach about climate change and encourage our churches to do something make a difference now, then we would be forced to talk about it soon enough because the results of it would become evident and catastrophic.

Well, things do feel pretty catastrophic, and despite the beauty of my surroundings, anxiety zips through my mind. I know there are many small things I can do to help ease the situation, and I do as many of them as I can manage. But I also know that real change will only happen when good, environmentally responsible decisions are made at the national and international levels. 

This means we need leaders who understand the issues and are willing to do what is right, despite the political fallout. This means helping our leaders find their way back to values like honesty, integrity and working for the good of all people and all inhabitants of the earth. It can be discouraging, to see how wealthy businesses and individuals continue to pursue financial gain rather than looking to do what is right for the whole. 

People ask me, "How can we deal with the frustration? How are we supposed to handle the anxiety and the stress all of this brings to our lives?" For me the answer lies in spending time in the natural world every day, even if I am just sitting on my porch for a little while. It means breathing in the air and paying attention to whatever is there - birds flying across my line of vision or a bee buzzing around my lunch, a lush garden of flowers or weeds poking up out of the sidewalk, clouds rolling up from the distant hills or a a trickling stream, my cat pushing at my hand for attention. 

Breathing in, I take in the freshness, the reality of this moment in time. Breathing out, I release the things that trouble me. I do this as long as it takes, until I feel a bit calmer, a little more prepared for my day. And then I stand up and put my hands and my heart toward whatever is next, whatever is needed of me.