Breathe. Pause. Breathe. Pause. Breathe. . .

The gift of a somewhat retired life is having the time to fully appreciate the power of now, the power of nothingness. Which is, of course, the power of everythingness. This is a space I’m growing into in these days and weeks, hopefully months and years too, since turning 74. Everythingness, what a glorious doorway to the unfolding of a life already well lived, and yet one that is ripe for far more living.

Since the age of 13 I have been employed. I have also been alcoholic since that age too. Until now I had not considered that parallel in my life. Does the alcoholism, in fact “complement” the work life?  I think it did for me. The drink was quite often the reward for work well done. As I aged it fueled the act of working too. Seldom did I grade papers, develop strategic plans or study for exams without a glass of Jack Daniels by my side. It eased the transition between thoughts and words on the page. It eased the transition for all the years it took to become the Ph.D I had never imagined would be my reward.

Throughout the journey from drink number one to the celebration of 37 years of abstinence, I passed through many portals of life and seldom did I take the time to breathe, pause and breathe again. I simply rushed by the events, the people, the inclinations to make choice A rather than choice B.  I had never considered the idea that what caught my attention had been “sent” from on high.

Now today, I know that to be the thread of life that I have busily “knit” into the tapestry that is mine, and only mine.  Knitting and breathing and pausing I know to be my main “assignments.”  I say assignment because that word implies a necessary act.  The act of breathing is of course mandatory for us all. The gift of pausing is an act to be cultivated, daily, hourly, even minute by minute. Cultivated not unlike the garden of vegetables we hover over after planting, pulling the hungry weeds whose job it is to steal the moisture away from the roots who seek to feed the carrots and the lettuce and the ruby red tomatoes. And knitting?  Well knitting the myriad threads is done automatically. By you, by me, by every creature of the forests and the streams.