A personal essay on being still for a busy, scattered mind.

Observe. Listen. Feel.

“To meditate does not mean to fight with a problem. To meditate means to observe.”

Thich Nhat Hanh, Zen Buddhist Monk

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Sitting in the sun this morning, I enjoy a cool breeze, and the sounds of the earth waking up, reflecting, and enjoying.

Leaning into what IS. Now. The only “time” that matters. 

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The morning sun shines through the trees, warming my face and eyes, offering its comfort. It feels soothing like a balm to my body, mind, and soul.

I write in my journal, shadows of birds crossing my page on their way to one tree or another.

I observe. I listen. I feel. 

Ants, aphids, caterpillars…they cross the vast expanse of my yoga mat covering their roaming grounds.

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Laura Lee, my sweet dog, frolics, sniffing here and there, grabbing her ball, and running towards me at full charge, only to feint left or right at the last second.

I pretend to reach out and grab it, she darts away, happy that I am playing with her as I giggle with glee.

Oh! The aphid lifts off my mat and flies away, looking like a bit of ash floating in the air.

A small winged creature lands on the end of my pen. I am still, watching as it rubs its legs together, marveling at its tiny gossamer wings. 

I observe.

A wind chime tinkles in a neighboring yard, creating a melody in sync with the wind.

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Birds caw, chirp, and whistle. The leaves rustle. A plane roars faintly in the distance. Cars drive by on neighborhood streets. My dog runs and snorts. 

I listen. 

The cool air and gentle breeze caress my skin. It ruffles my hair and the pages of my journal.

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My fingertips are slightly numb from the chill of this “almost” autumn weather. My pen and journal feel solid in my hand, my writing is smooth and comforting.

I feel.

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As always,

Your friend,

Dawn-Renée ❣️

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