Paying attention

I'm writing this with one white cat sprawled across my lap, belly up, head on my right arm, so if there are a few typos, blame Cheswick. For whatever reason, he's begun to seek my lap when I'm at the computer -- he is Tony's cat, to be sure, but I'm apparently the pick of the month for the computer lap. Could be that Tony's is usually filled with McMurphy.

This white one is sleeping. Head tucked into the crook my elbow makes as I'm typing. Paws stretched up my chest. It is too cute for words.

ANYWAY.

I went to Redding today and as I was driving, thought about how January is nearly over, and how I've been so focused on meeting deadlines that the days have slipped by almost without notice.

This is not how I want to live my life! I want to savor each day for whatever experience, whatever lesson it may bring. I want to notice the food I'm putting into my mouth, the feel of the blacktop under my sneaker-shod feet as I walk in the mornings, the sound of the outdoors. I don't want to be so obsessed with work and deadlines that I go from one task to another to another, and then it's time for bed, and another day is gone!

This morning I started right, at least. As we were eating breakfast, I tried doing a little eating meditation -- noticing how the fork felt in my hand, the texture of the sausage or the egg, the tang of sage and pepper. The taste of the yolk -- all by itself, no bread, no egg white. And the mouthfeel of the food.

It didn't carry over into the other meals, of course. We ate lunch hurriedly so I could get on with errands; we talked over dinner. And here I am again, time for bed, and this day is gone for this year.

I've been walking the loop around our subdivision nearly every morning with neighbors and Tony -- about 2 miles, about an hour. I really like walking this road. Even though we're talking the whole time, I still notice things you don't see from a car: the thick pine barrier one neighbor has cultivated around his property, a buzzard warming his wings on top of a telephone pole, the slopes up and down of the land. I like that connection with the world -- and also with friends every day. It helps me to pay attention to where I am.

And every night as we snuggle down between the flannel sheets and the kitties come nestle into their favorite places, I think how grateful I am to have this. I pay attention to the feel of those sheets on my tired body, the warm bulk of the man I adore next to me, the quiet of the house as it settles down and shuts off for the night. I notice the moonbeams -- so bright as the full moon approaches! -- glowing whitely around the shuttered blinds on the windows. It is a blessed time and one I never take for granted or fail to notice.

I still have deadlines to meet on projects, but I'm going to try not to spend my whole days meeting them, glued to the computer screen. I want to pay attention to my house -- to finish a project or three I've had on my list but have put off because of responsibilities -- nearly all self-inflicted -- taking priority. Yes, they need doing because I made a commitment. But they don't deserve so many moments in the day -- ultimately they are not that important. Paying attention to the world around me, to the messages from the universe that come then -- that is what is important.