A LIFE THAT TAKES ITS TIME

Somehow we believe  our lives are more worthwhile when we do as much as possible.  There must be research on this.  Our Puritan heritage?  The status of busyness?  For many, most of the day is planned time. True for me for most of my life. 

I was given a lovely present, A Book that Takes its Time by Irene Smit and Astrid Van Der Hulst.  It seems like the perfect present for these days.  In North Carolina coronavirus cases are still rising and my life is the most unhurried it has ever been.  Same with the rest of our family.  On-line summer art classes; working from home; child care; walking the dogs; weighing who we can visit with and where.  The children have been told that Fall semester will be distance learning again.  So although life is crazy there is also more time to breathe.  Right now my husband and I are sheltering at the beach where nothing much needs doing.  I hope your mind has a chance to clear too.  

This book has pull-outs, punch-outs and fill-ins.  Among them are 48 Notecards on which to write a Beautiful Moment.  

I love filling these in.  I went back in time for some moments, ones that are precious.  Like, May 2005:  my son calling to say "No son ever loved a mother more than I love you."  (That may be my lifetime #1.)  Another from May 2005:  when I told my mom, "Mom, we have no issues," and it was true, always true.  

Other simpler recurring Beautiful Moments:  my husband making my morning tea; sunset from our Adirondack chairs;  when I hear the words, "Hi Grandma."   I wrote one today.  "Today I found 20 Augers!"  Those little predatory marine sea snails that leave a spiral shell that resembles a slender screw or an auger.  I like to think it takes a trained eye to spot that many in the piles of broken shells left after the tide recedes. 

Today's Treasures

I have a large decorative bottle full that belonged to my mother.  I imagine her bending and picking up each one, then washing it and dropping it through the narrow mouth into the bottle. 

If you have some time, try remembering your Beautiful Moments.  Where could you keep them?  On craft paper in a tin or jar?  Part of taking care of ourselves.

There's also a chapter in the book by Lissette Thooft (Dutch writer, b. 1953) about another way to live more slowly.  It has to do with waiting for things--sort of like we are now.  Waiting to see friends, waiting to travel, waiting to hug each other when greeting, waiting for a vaccine, for normalcy, in America waiting for the presidential election . . . .   While our waiting now is nothing any of us particularly want, in general, experts say,  anticipation is good for us; anticipation produces dopamine, the chemical that makes us feel good.  Things and experiences gain value when we wait for them.  We've all noticed that haven't we?  What we may have taken for granted 6 months ago we now yearn for. 

The instant gratification we've become accustomed to may be a form of greed.  I know I can get almost angry just watching my computer buffer.  Perhaps patience is a kind of generosity  People who can have whatever they want as soon as they want it may end up feeling empty and disappointed (or in debt). Waiting for something good may bring us greater satisfaction.  The quiet enjoyment of a goal reached.  It may make us realize that life is worth waiting for.  

More on this charming book later.