When he was small, my youngest son had a habit of filling his pockets with treasures he encountered in his daily adventures. I didn't always understand the value he saw in his chosen objects -- really, how many rocks and sticks could one boy keep? In his eyes, though, each one was beautiful and important. Life is just like that on a larger scale, isn't it? We gather up the precious bits of our experiences and save them all to learn from and enjoy later. Perhaps you'll find a little something here that you'd like to keep in your own pockets. Thanks for visiting.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

So said the cat

At the risk of sounding like I either have too much free time on my hands or am losing my mind (neither of which is true, I assure you), I'm going to admit here that I realized something valuable while watching my cat one morning this past week.

I had just come back home after walking the boys to school, and my thoughts were already racing with the million things I wanted to accomplish in the next several hours. The week had felt heavy up to that point, filled with more bumps in the road and worries than average, and I'd been feeling pretty weary and frazzled from its weight. When I started up the stairs to grab the laundry basket, I was stopped suddenly by the sight of Maggie on the level above me. She sat with her head poking through the railing, looking utterly relaxed, in the one beam of sunlight that had found its way through an upstairs window. The warmth of that sunbeam was obviously making her happy, and it was clear that she had sought out that specific spot, claiming her very own little piece of bliss.

I realized in that moment that what Maggie had found was exactly what I needed. While I obviously couldn't abandon all of my responsibilities to adopt a cat's life of leisure, I was also suddenly quite certain that the world would not fall apart if I stopped for a bit to recharge myself. I made a cup of tea, grabbed my pencil and notebook, and found my own bright, warm spot on the living room couch, where the morning rays were lighting up a space just the right size for sitting in. It felt wonderful having that warmth on my face, a rare experience over the last several long winter months, and the act of sitting and taking some time to think calmly made the constant buzzing I'd been hearing all week grow dim. Sure, I still had a million things to do, but the quiet moments I claimed for my own that morning made the mountain seem more manageable. I was grateful for Maggie's reminder that sometimes, less is more.

I think many of us could probably benefit from following Maggie's quiet, sun-seeking lead a little more often. She's a smart girl, that cat... and when I remember sometimes to imitate her perfected style of relaxation, so am I.

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