The Power Of Sitting

This morning, Tim and Ducky and I went on our walk, as usual.  It was a slightly drippy morning—a few squalls moving through and the leftovers from yesterday’s steady rain dripping from the trees.  We had a great hour and ten minute or so walk and were heading back to the car.

Tim reached into his pocket for Ducky’s leash.

It was gone.

The leash we carry in the forest is a simple nylon lead that Ducky’s grandpa (my stepdad) gave her for Christmas.  It’s a John Deere leash.  My dad got it because he has a John Deere riding lawn mower that he treats like a treasured sports car and a John Deere hat that he loves to wear (he’s 80 years old—it’s his idea of hip attire).

The leash was perfect for walks because it was small and tucked into a pocket and was just enough to control her at the start and end of our walks, at the trailhead near the street.

When we realized it was missing, Tim said he and Ducky would retrace our path and try to find it.  One pass through the whole forest takes about half an hour at the pace we usually walk.  Tim can go faster (since my ankle injury, I don’t move the way I used to), so I planted myself on a bench in the forest clearing and waited.

The bench, by the way, is lovely.  It’s a wooden bench with a verdigris cast iron rose-patterned back.  It bears a dedication plaque that reads, “Hilda Marion Glover, 1924-2007, Sit and Hear the Silence.”  The greatest gift we can expect from life, I think, is to be loved as much as someone obviously loved Hilda Glover.

I was having a little trouble finding a feel good place before I sat on the bench … for reasons not worth going into (they come under the heading of NI).  But as I sat there, an umbrella shielding me from the tree’s drips, my ears tuned into the forest’s pattering music, I felt myself finding alignment with the greater part of me—my nonphysical self.

I started playing out virtual scenarios in my head.  I ran them like little movies:  my agent calls on Tuesday to tell me she finally read my book, loves it, and plans to start submitting it to editors this week; a different agent calls and tells me she loves Puppies Interrupted and manages to sell it quickly, to the same editor who worked on Marley and Me, for a six-figure advance; Tim wins a lottery Tuesday evening, and we go see an attorney the next day to find out how best to handle the money; we move to Oregon and fix up an ocean-view house; we take a trip down the coast in September to celebrate the day Tim proposed, and he plays the Pebble Beach golf course ….

The longer I sat there visualizing these wonderful scenes, the better I felt.

Once in awhile, I’d find myself feeling not as good.  I’d check what I was thinking and realize my mind had wandered back into “what is” instead of “what I want.”  I’d poke my mind, and move it on to something better.

I sat there for 25 minutes.  Suddenly, Ducky burst from the trees and tore down the path toward me.  We had a tail-wagging reunion.  Tim said he didn’t find the leash.

We walked the circuit together again (Ducky got a 2 hour and 15 minute walk this morning) and still didn’t find the leash.  Someone must have picked it up.  Sigh.  I hope they enjoy it.

Tim said maybe it was a sign.  When we move to Oregon, we plan to get Ducky an Oregon Ducks (University of Oregon) leash, so maybe we lost this one to make way for the other one.  It’s a nice theory.

I miss the leash, but I enjoyed my sit.  Because I had nothing else to do while I waited for Tim, I really had a chance to focus my thought.

I wonder whether just sitting and finding scenarios that feel good is more productive than DOING things that don’t feel good.

I’ve heard The Secret gurus say that you can’t sit around waiting for something good to happen.  One of the speakers/writers quoted in that book (I forget which one) says that if you sit around waiting for money to come, you’ll find yourself sitting on the curb, homeless.

Abraham-Hicks might take issue with that.  They say that action is great, when it’s inspired, but action isn’t necessarily required to get what we want.  It’s not what we do. It’s how we’re aligned.

I was aligned in the forest today.  I could feel it.

I want to feel like that more often.

I’d like to have the courage to do that instead of doing the logical things to make money.

I’m moving closer to that courage (thanks in large part to a great new friend who sends me wonderful, encouraging e-mails—in fact, I need to add that to my “I love …” list:

Paz’s e-mails

Maybe my new motto needs to be “Sit and Hear the feel good thoughts.”