I’m not normally a Monday person, but just recently, I haven’t had to get up and negotiate the early morning chaos that comes with travelling to one’s designated place of work. I’m having a break for a few months, and have come to appreciate my self-imposed exhile from the masses and suburbia.
At first, it was nice to sleep in, and I would wallow in bed for longer than was necessary. After a while however, I found that there were new ways of appreciating my new found freedom that didn’t involve early morning bed-wallowing.
It’s nice to get up and actually appreciate the morning stillness in an unhurried, I’m-not-going-to-work kind of way, and soak up all that was really happening around me for once.
My dogs have the ritual, and obviously the necessity, of getting out and going about their business in the yard, which involves a lot more than the obvious. There are things to be investigated, new odours to smell, and nooks and crannies to explore. Who could have known that the yard had changed so much in eight hours? Left to their own devices, they offered me an opportunity to observe the unhurried and casual approach that they have to what is happening around them in every single moment. If only we could all adopt this attitude on a permanent basis, the world would be a far better place – and not just on a Monday.
I get to sit on my front veranda a lot, drink my tea and observe the going’s on in the neighbourhood. I take the time to greet my neighbours as they walk past. I’ve said hello to people that I haven’t seen for ages. Some have even told me that they were so concerned that I might have either been dead or had moved away, that they had asked my husband. I was happy to tell them that I was ok for the moment, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
I’m getting to appreciate where I live a little more. I live on an island, and I would approach my working week with trepidation, steeling myself for the weekly to’s and thro’s – which involved a car, a ferry, walking the block, and then another car – before I even joined the fray of the working warrier. I now get to explore my island environment a little more, with the knowledge that there is nothing that requires my immediate attention beyond the gentle roll of the tides that meet the sand.
I’m sure that this will change again in the future, by choice, and I will be once again picking my way through suburbia on a regular basis. But I hope to do it with a renewed sense of worth and vitality, a changed outlook and a revised internal navigational system that doesn’t mind getting lost occasionally.