Although I have been hesitant in the past to blog, last week was
I was visited by an inspiration that blogging could actually be a
pleasurable way to record the singular pleasures or awakenings of a day. Perhaps a personal journal is just as good a
place to write about such things, but how would someone who might want to be
able to use my salves, or to come have a reflexology session be able to read
that? Would he or she really need to?! I don’t know, but to whomever would like to
read what I would have written in my journal if I had one, here is what I wrote.
Today, a desire emerged
from somewhere to reinitiate my blog with the singular pleasure of my walk on
Patterson Mountain with the dogs. Many
walks have lead up to this walk, but during this magical evening walk, I had
the singular pleasure of being completely aware of how walking more slowly
allows many good things. It allows me to
more easily stop and smell the roses, it allows me to maintain a comfortable
posture with more core support (so that I can actually walk farther without any low-back pain), and it
allows my olden doggie to easily keep up and feel important because she has
time to smell the chipmunks while the younger dog is oblivious to how fast or
slow I am walking as she covers many miles for every step I take. Walking slowly brings us all together in a
happy way.
I also enjoyed the singular pleasure of complete awareness of
how our eyes are able to integrate form and color across great distances and
shades of light. It feels right that our
eyes, for those of us who are lucky enough to still have our sight, are so much
more able to do this, and provide so much more satisfaction in what they find,
than our cameras. As grateful as I am to
be able to record beautiful sights with my camera, the moment of
putting it into my back pack as the light became too low for it to be
useful, provided me the deeply satisfying and singular pleasure of dropping,
unencumbered by a filter, into the sights, sounds, and smells of the
evening. So much sensation and
experience I hadn’t realized I was keeping out, just by carrying a camera. Releasing it to my backpack
released me to the evening. I felt the
heavy evening air rush up to meet my body.
I felt I was in a bowl thick with the sounds of insects and moving air. The air, the plants, the earth were colored.
All that pleasure from walking slowly and allowing my senses
to do what they evolved to do.
I will describe the reasons for my hiatus from blogging in
the next blog.
Lucinda Tear practices reflexology and creates herbal salves and potions in the Methow Valley, on the east slope of the North Cascade Mountains, in Washington State. She loves living there. www.reflexologyandsalves.com
