He did each single thing.
as if he did nothing else.
This quote popped into my life the other day, via a Facebook link to a blog--a twenty-first century connection to 19th century wisdom. Funny, I never really considered that a Victorian writer would struggle with our contemporary malaise of multitasking and fragmented urgency. Perhaps it's simply a common human struggle, this seeking focused presence.
Living each moment, really seeing and breathing it in as it occurs, is not always easy, but I do try. There is no reason in retirement to ever be harried or hurried. I really do have the time to take it more slowly. I have time to enjoy the hulling and tasting of the sweet, succulent strawberry, and I have time to enjoy each step in making the jam. I have time to embrace the setting of my house in order (a better word for housework)--the physical demands of it and the soft satisfaction of living in a space well kempt. I have time to love the warmth of the summer sun and notice the movement of my shoulders while I push the mower and the pull the weeds. I have time to enjoy the evening bike ride on the paths that wander through our sweet town. And I have time enjoy the luxury of a crossword puzzle over the breakfast table.
My yoga teacher quietly yet firmly pulls me back and pushes me forward each week as she leads us in breathing deeply and stretching further and that practice helps in centering. My quiet time in the morning, the early part of the day spent nestled in my chair with coffee, newspaper, computer and bible begin the day in peace (although I ought to abstain from the computer more often!). In the evening, at the closing of the day, my knitting, the comfort of the repetition of hand wisdom and the book by my bed lull me into quieter places and soul spaces from daily life.
It is a good goal--to be present every moment, to do each thing, one at a time, not fretting about what was nor worrying about what shall be.