Today was a more human day than soulful. A fair number of (relatively) important tasks to complete, leaving me seemingly little dedicated space to settle in to soul.
So I took advantage of it when I could. While my dog stopped every ten feet on our walk today, I paused too. Willingly at first, then with mounting frustration with each interruption of what had felt like a smooth cadence.
This frustration was amplified by battling the pull inside that wished to phone it in today. “There’s so much human stuff to do,” it argued, “maybe today isn’t the day to be all spiritual.” I responded to that voice by saying the days when I don’t feel like doing it are the days when it’s most important to do it.
So, how can I do that right now, in this moment, as I’m feeling a little put out?
A deeper awareness of “dog’s gonna dog” - outside walks and the array of stimulating natural smells have been in short supply for her with the cold weather and snow-covered turf - reminded me to allow her the extra space to smell away, especially with this morning’s weather report of an impending “Arctic Blast” of cold on its way.
With that awareness, I took those as opportunities to pause myself, and look around. I appreciated the gifts that winter offers with the barren trees. Reduced to their skeletons, we are now able to see the full size and shape of the trees - abandoned nests that served as hidden homes for the winged ones this past year. The trees felt still, asleep. I chuckled at the choice of words that we often use - “a blanket of snow” - and mused that maybe the snow “tucked in” these beings for a nap, as one might pull a quilt on a pet or loved one dozing off on the couch.
In addition, the horizon is now visible, not obscured by various shades of green. From atop the hill at the end of my street, I could see miles off in the distance. The flow of the surrounding hills. Patches of white snow outlining where the landscape turned from ground to trees.
It was a brief bit of time to reconnect with the deeper Earth energies - as my dog growls at the Amazon truck pulling down our driveway as I type this - amid a day of a lot of human.