Homebodies - Taking in the ordinary
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- Published on Saturday, May 20, 2017
Rita Friesen
The Neepawa Banner
It was one of those little quotes included in the Reader’s Digest, under the heading ‘Advice on Life’ – ‘We’re all so busy chasing the extraordinary that we forget to stop and be grateful for the ordinary’, Brene Brown. Brené Brown studies human connection — our ability to empathize, belong, love. She has been a featured guest on TED talk and Oprah, the author of several books. I admire her values and appreciate her writing.
This little quote has stopped me more than once, “Be grateful for the ordinary”. Having re-read the quote before my morning walk, with my dogs, my goal was to stop and notice the ordinary. Going with my dogs is the ordinary, so I consciously noted their excitement when they heard the sound of their leash, and how Miss Daisy genuflects to be snapped in. Henry Hoover approaches out a sense of duty, slow and deliberate steps, making eye contact, asking are we really are going for another walk? The air is fresh, the breeze cool. Zip up the jacket.
The willows are dropping their catkins, littering the road. Soft yellowish caterpillars? Miss Daisy tastes one and finds it unsatisfactory. Just to the north, in the shelter of a yard, fruit trees are beginning to bloom. Soft bridal veils, moved by the breezes. Dandelions, spots of sunshine, are visited by the occasional slow moving bee. Turning south, out of the wind and into full sun, I am reminded again of the story in the early years reader – a contest between the sun and the wind as who can get the traveller to remove his cloak. Howling wind causes the traveller to draw the cloak ever closer, but warming sun has the cloak folded over the arm in minutes.
I unzip my jacket and slow my pace and my breathing. There is something symbolic about that. For as I slow, I have opportunity to converse with not one, but two people. I pause long enough that the step counter believes I have stopped walking and signals the end of a session. I don’t care. Speaking with neighbours, friends, people pausing in their work, is being grateful for the ordinary. But little dogs ‘must think it queer to stop without a farmhouse near.’ But they have absorbed my mind set and they sit and sniff, and actually mingle, rather than tug and yelp. Strolling on, I fail to pause at the tap for them to have a drink. H. Hoover objects, so I retreat, fill the little bowl, and he drinks deep. Miss Daisy abstains, she has more stamina than that!
Watching, sensing, being. Being present to the moment, rewarding and refreshing. All ordinary scenes and actions, but they feel so different when I feel them. It would be wonderful to be able to say that I maintained that attitude. Alas, back at home duty called and I obeyed. Changed, challenged to see the ordinary as the gift it is.
