Remembering Mindfulness

 

In Tovah Martin's book The Garden in Every Sense and Season, she writes about Autumn:

"Don't fail to savor your blessings. Do it now. Put your nose to the air to sell the telltale woodsmoke, go for a walk to find the wild grapes, invite some of autumn's more colorful personalities into your life, pick some apples. . . But don't dawdle too long. Autumn has one undeniable personality trait: it is finite. You don't have all the time in the world."

Yesterday, an Amish neighbor I hadn't met yet knocked on my door and asked if I could take him and a passenger to the doctor's tomorrow morning. Well, my class had been canceled because our professor had his own issue to deal with. And it's rare you truly get the chance to bless another person, so I said I would. 

The drive, round-trip, was nearly three hours. But after dropping them off at the doctor's, I went to the small, quaint Southern town. Nothing opened until 10 a.m. and I could only window shop and take pictures. Well, nearly nothing was opened. This lovely coffee shop obliged me with a blend they called "The Gingerbread Man." 

And then I worked on my mindfulness, and just enjoyed a small town on a beautiful day, solo. 

No judging! You don't have to style your hair if you're transporting the Amish. 

There's a peek at how I spent this morning. It was good to stop . . and just be for an hour.