Welcome to 2016! I hope that you all enjoyed plenty of time soaking up good food, family and downtime over the holiday season.
I’m not sure if it’s the let down of the holidays, winter, or the start of a fresh year, but January usually leaves me with the urge to hibernate and be introspective. This year has proven to be no different. While I’m not much on resolutions, I do believe in taking inventory of the past year.
What did I learn?
How did I challenge myself?
What can I do better?
What do I need to let go?
What brought me joy or sadness?
In the calamity of my household, it’s often hard to sit and process these types of questions. Three boys are a glorious cyclone of conversation and energy, but they leave you little time to mull over such introspective thoughts.
So, as always, I saved them for a run. I’m not sure if it’s the endorphins, or whatever kind of auto-pilot that takes over, but I can almost always count on clarity to show up.
It was during a run on a particularly cold, gray afternoon. A few miles in, it began to snow. The type of snow that falls once, maybe twice a season. Big, fluffy flakes peacefully descending from a white sky, no wind. Quiet. As I ran past a row of evergreens, I paused to watch. The beautiful silence, was palpable. Snow appeared to be falling in slow motion. In turn, everything around me felt that way too. Soaking this in, after miles of tossing and turning the above questions in my mind, it was suddenly clear.
I want more of this.
More slow motion, more beauty, more moments of quiet, more joy.
Of course you might be thinking, ‘don’t we all want more slowness, quiet and joy.’ I’m not naïve enough to believe this is what my life will be everyday, but that’s not the point. The point is taking the time to make it happen, to notice the moments where opportunity for this fulfillment lies, and step into them. If we make this a practice, watching for these chances, challenging ourselves to create them, won’t we become better at noticing them?
I hope so.