I feel like I’m left to clean up after a party with a hangover.
Last night we had our first guest speaker on our podcast. After a three week hiatus in recording, having a guest on the show added to the already built up excitement of getting back into the swing of things. The anticipation of this great event was that shiny object glinting off the horizon for the entire week.
Now the episode is recorded. It may be a week or two before it’s in the can. A day off granted to me by former presidents is a couple of weeks out. The seeds for this season’s crop of peppers and flowers won’t see soil for a month yet. The arrival of the new carpet is at least a week away. All the sources of big excitement are not close enough to begin dancing any jigs of anticipation.
So this morning I was sitting mulling over all the big upcoming events only to see a tumbleweed roll through the rest of the week and into the weekend. Little things to do that I’m looking forward to, but nothing to hold my attention hostage like a kid on December 19th. As sweet and warm and cozy and comfy as the days are, they carry the stamp of the mundane.
I sometimes forget it’s the mundane I look forward to, especially when the social calendar is packed and there’s only one space left to punch on the dance card. Sometimes I find myself looking forward to the act of looking forward to the next thing. I have to remember the words of my minister, stated in a lapse of remembering who is his congregation is. A person at work told him one Monday how she was hoping the week would go by fast, and he replied “If it goes by too fast and something good happens, you might miss it.”
Sometimes I try to hold onto the highs of the big events. When an event passes I look for the next high in dwelling on the next one. This is a perfect time for me to soak in the stillness of the moment, to appreciate the quiet of life, to allow myself to savor the breath as I draw it in. So often I feel a compulsion to fill the space with mental noise, to create internal movement to counter the external stillness. Right here is a golden opportunity. I will appreciate this moment of stillness and bank it. The day will come when life brings its veritable whirlwind and I will remember that I had this moment, and that this moment will come again.