Yesterday I went for a walk in one of my favorite places, Africa. It's just down the road a bit, wide-open fields surrounded by creek and old firs. I call it "Africa" because of the tall grasses and feeling of being away from it all. I like to walk to the abandoned apple orchard at the far end to read and nap in the deer beds under the wide-open sky. It is a delicious and simple pleasure for me. One I seldom take.
I got out walking in the pink afternoon light, humming, my dog bounding around, and I was hit by how long it had been since I had come here. Months. And WHY NOT? Many times my yearning for wide-open and un-even had nudged me, begging me to get up from the housework or the computer to take this blessed journey, but my clamoring mind couldn't to listen to what that Other Part of me was whispering.
But yesterday I listened. I had a realization that too much of my life I had overridden that quiet little voice full of now, wonder and daring. I interrupted her with emergencies, told her "not now, later," hoped she'd leave me alone so I didn't feel guilty (not forever, I'd hope). But yesterday, she started stomping her feet inside my chest (some call it stress), and I had no choice but to listen.
I have been listening to her since yesterday non-stop. My work is more fun and productive, I am happy to see people, not worried about stuff, I believe I can do what I love. I feel whole, ALL of me engaged in this miraculous adventure of life. And here, now.