I spend too much of my life away from the present moment, something the practice of yoga is helping me cure. If I'm living in the past or speculating about the future I'm depriving myself of the present. And aren't we always hearing that the present is all we have?
We've been on the road the last few days, making our annual trek to see oldest daughter and family --- grandsons who will soon be taller than us --- and I'm no midget!
Today was a "rest" day. We went exploring around Smoky Mountain National Park. The pilot was on his game but the navigator was found wanting --- seriously wanting. Forty five years later you'd think I'd no longer have to keep turning the map upside down to know where I'm going, but hah! You'd be wrong! And don't even get me started on navigating with Mr. Google's assistance. And what is that saying about doing the same thing over and expecting different results?Obviously there's insanity in the air! Tempers were a little frayed but we managed to suspend hostilities and enjoy a delicious supper at The Pottery House, a lovely little restaurant we come back to every year.
Arriving back at our room we kicked off our shoes to relax. But I decided more stodgy sitting was the last thing I needed. Armed with thick towels as a mat substitute, I headed out to our little balcony for some surreptitious yoga. It turned out to be a mixture of stretches do-able in a small space and sitting, gazing around, being, you guessed it, in the present moment.
We're in the Smoky Mountains. The air is velvety, the sky a pearly gray, the movement of the air hardly a breeze, merely a whisper, and deliciously cool. The grass in front of me is emerald, raindrops balancing tremulously on the ends of each blade. The rain makes steady music in the downspout nearby. A cat moves sinuously into view, barely discernible in the fading light. He emerges from some bushes below me and stands a moment surveying the scene. Gracefully he lowers his hind quarters to the ground and looks around. Making a decision, he rises and sets off down a grassy embankment and disappears. I return to contemplating the layers of trees of multiple shades of green, some even fading, already, into yellow.
I watch the famous Smoky Mountain mist descend over the treetops and and breathe in the peace.
A good sleep tonight,then onward to those gangly, beautiful grandsons. The navigator is retiring.
We've been on the road the last few days, making our annual trek to see oldest daughter and family --- grandsons who will soon be taller than us --- and I'm no midget!
Today was a "rest" day. We went exploring around Smoky Mountain National Park. The pilot was on his game but the navigator was found wanting --- seriously wanting. Forty five years later you'd think I'd no longer have to keep turning the map upside down to know where I'm going, but hah! You'd be wrong! And don't even get me started on navigating with Mr. Google's assistance. And what is that saying about doing the same thing over and expecting different results?Obviously there's insanity in the air! Tempers were a little frayed but we managed to suspend hostilities and enjoy a delicious supper at The Pottery House, a lovely little restaurant we come back to every year.
Arriving back at our room we kicked off our shoes to relax. But I decided more stodgy sitting was the last thing I needed. Armed with thick towels as a mat substitute, I headed out to our little balcony for some surreptitious yoga. It turned out to be a mixture of stretches do-able in a small space and sitting, gazing around, being, you guessed it, in the present moment.
We're in the Smoky Mountains. The air is velvety, the sky a pearly gray, the movement of the air hardly a breeze, merely a whisper, and deliciously cool. The grass in front of me is emerald, raindrops balancing tremulously on the ends of each blade. The rain makes steady music in the downspout nearby. A cat moves sinuously into view, barely discernible in the fading light. He emerges from some bushes below me and stands a moment surveying the scene. Gracefully he lowers his hind quarters to the ground and looks around. Making a decision, he rises and sets off down a grassy embankment and disappears. I return to contemplating the layers of trees of multiple shades of green, some even fading, already, into yellow.
I watch the famous Smoky Mountain mist descend over the treetops and and breathe in the peace.
A good sleep tonight,then onward to those gangly, beautiful grandsons. The navigator is retiring.
The GPS should be able to handle it from here....
12 comments:
There was time when I was praised for my navigation skills and pilots of all ages asked for my assistance - until I needed reading glasses and had to figure out how to find, let alone use them. Alas, not in time.
Now the pilot listens to a sanctimonious female robot mispronouncing street names without showing an interest in detours or roadkill, while I am sulking or falling asleep.
Thank you for the rainy view from your balcony. Have a safe journey onwards.
Your balcony sounds blissful. Himself has less than no navigational skills so it falls to me. He drives, I direct. Which works for us. However, if I am travelling with one of my brothers he asks for directions and then ignores them. Which has led to words before now...
Heavens , nobody sensible has ever asked me to navigate .
So I'm full of admiration for your skills ... AND you seem to be able to control a map . Wonderwoman !
I'm hopeless at knowing which way to go and if I can't picture it in my mind I'm done for! Mr M on the other hand has homing pigeon genes and knows his way even in places he's never been before like when we were with friends in USA! Lovely descriptions of your quiet time and pure santosha (contentment according to my yoga teacher). I'm off to a clas tonight but it won't be anywhere nearly as lovely as the Smokey Mountains!!
Ha -- enjoy your retirement, it sounds as if you've earned it. And have a wonderful time with your grandsons!
Please don't tell but I have navigational sense and can read a map....but as our current car has satnav I can sit back and agree that it's correct!
Have a lovely time away with the young ones.
I could picture the scene you described...lovely words!
It's perfectly reasonable to turn a map upside down and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Have a lovely time with the ganglers.
Sabine - The pilot also has issues, occasionally, with the sanctimonious female robot who, only today, told us we had nine more miles to go when in fact we were .03 miles from our destination. Free from navigational duties, I smile smugly and look straight ahead..
EC - Strangely enough, when I'm alone in the car I can find my way to wherever I'm going without any ruffling of feathers. If, on occasion, I get temporarily lost I take advantage of the situation to make new discoveries. Meandering around the countryside holds little charm for the OC, but for me it adds to the adventure.
S & S - I think it may be the difference between the male of the species and the female because my female friends are regularly awestruck by my uncanny abilities, especially in the matter of finding the most obscurely remote quilt shops.
MJ - I'm sure it doesn't matter where you are in the world, the benefits of yoga are just a couple of deep, mindful breaths away!
Anna-Banana - Consider it done! And thank you for your encouragement - little granddaughter's quilt has been finally finished and delivered!
Ali Honey - So. You and my daughters are proof that women can navigate as well and as logically as men!
Pam - Thank you for the validation! I've always thought it perfectly logical to turn a map upside down so where I'm going and how it shows on the map are in sync. I wonder what it is that men don't get about that?
Your trip through the Smoky Mountains sounds so peaceful and relaxing – plus you have a mad and a GPS. We had none of these on our last trip and kept getting lost, so lost that I have written a post on it and can write so more … I also find that when one is in the middle of a large city it is expected that they know where they are going and there are very few signs.
I meant a "map" not a mad co-pilot ...
Vagabonde - between you, me and the wall, the few days we had there was entirely inadequate! Some day I'd like to go back with a pair of stout boots and my camera, and hike for days.....
As for "mad"? Totally appropriate!
A lovely, poetic post...one that paints the picture beautifully. (Even the frustrations of map reading and the impatience....I'm glad I'm not alone in the impatience department)!! :)
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