On Being Still. Day 20 of 365
[This post first appeared on “Riding the Waves”, my blog on Chicago Tribune’s ChicagoNow]
It's 6:21pm on a Friday evening. The work day is over, and the sun's low in the sky.
I've just spent the last hour with my next door neighbor, sitting on our shared porch, talking, warmed by the setting sun and by her gentle company.
This was but one of many impromptu connections we've shared -- the kind that typically starts with, "Hey, stranger...how've you been?" and ends with a huge hug and laughter.
I sure got lucky in the neighbor department.
Catching up, we covered an array of topics, pausing every now and then when other neighbors would stop to say hello.
As we talked, I watched the cars of rush hour driving down the street, feeling grateful not to have to be anywhere but here.
I felt so happy to be still.
As we took in all the updates of one another's lives, I took in the soft breeze blowing, and the sounds of the little birds chirping, and the green of spring's emerging leaves on all the neighborhood trees.
I took in all the barking of our countless neighborhood dogs, and the dribble of a basketball on a black topped, asphalt driveway, and the laughter of a gaggle of teens galloping across the street.
I took in sights of adorable couples, dressed up, walking hand in hand on the sunny sidewalks, heading toward destinations surely readied for the weekend's start.
And as we sat there, quietly chatting, taking in the world from our little perch, I felt the easy calm of friendship, and it caught me by surprise. It felt so beautifully remarkable just to sit and be still.
There are endless things that call us, pulling our energy and reserves, and it was just so good to stop and pull in nothing but air and calm.
It felt so good to sit.
I was grateful just to BE.