The Awakened Soul A Day of Rest
Having one day a week to rest, relax, and rejuvenate makes a tremendous difference in our health. It's so common today for people to stuff more activity into that 24 hours a day, to deny the body, and to run it into the ground.
Once I realized how detrimental my habit of taking two classes on my day off had become, I blocked off that day for relaxation. Mentally, I felt annoyed and irritable. Physically, I hadn't noticed how exhausted I'd become. My muscles were hard and unyielding. Once I took that day off my body seemed to go into shock. "What? You're not going to push me today? I can be lazy? I can let go?" The process of regeneration began. Instead of fighting rush hour traffic on the freeway, I slept in, and let myself stay in my pajamas until late in the morning. "Do you want to go hiking?" I asked the dogs. Eagerly, they bounded into the backseat of the car. We headed out to Vasquez Rocks in Agua Dulce. The jagged cliffs, blue sky and mountains bring to mind visions of Santa Fe, New Mexico. The dogs are in their glory. They race over and through the trails, chasing rabbits, playing together, and running back to find me. I hide from them and giggle as they run right by me, trying to figure out where I have gone. I sigh and take in the beauty of the scene. This land was once inhabited by Native Americans, and you can feel the sacred energy.
As a teacher, I see how the syndrome of 'workaholicism' is affecting young dancers. Many have adopted the same approach that they see in the adults around them. They become over committed, racing from one activity to the next. Because they don't learn how to set limits and make priorities, they end up breaking agreements and asking or even expecting to be the exception. Some of them even resort to lying. It's another addiction.
With a free day, the muscles really rest. It's a day that I like to cook. Today I make a potato leek soup from scratch. Peeling and cubing the pot-atoes grounds me. I put the peelings and leek scraps into a coffee can I have saved. When it is full, I take it out to the compost pile. I dig a hole in the center of it, and add my kitchen scraps: the coffee grounds, apple cores, banana peels, vegetable trimmings, and egg shells that I have saved. The composting process returns all of these nutrients into the Earth. I can feel the energy in the ground beneath my feet as I walk back through the orchard to the house. I stop and pick a few Meyer lemons off of my tree, which is loaded. I have spread a layer of leaves from my mulberry tree around the base of this one. With the rain, the leaves break down, adding necessary nutrients into the soil, and also creating a weed barrier. I am amazed at the nearly perfect shape of the lemons. They have turned a deep yellow orange color that only Mother Nature can provide. I admire the blossoms that promise more fruit, and marvel at how the tree is so abundant. I am able to make lemonade, lemon pudding cakes, lemon meringue pie, and much more, thanks to this tree.
As I return inside, I hear the pattering of rain starting on the roof. It is snug and warm in my tiny cottage. My black Labrador nudges me, silently asking permission to come up on the couch. "Okay," I tell him, covering him up with a blanket that I have crocheted. He nestles into me and within a few minutes he begins snoring softly. He has perfected the art of relaxation and enjoying a nap.
Walking to the stove to reheat the coffee, I glance past the African violets in my window to check on Chrissie, my pot bellied pig. She has moved the doormat from in front of the back door out on to the ground. The sandals that I usually slip on as I walk outside are missing. "Chrissie, where did you put my shoes?" I ask her. She answers back, with a grunt, like she always does. Maybe I am imagining it, but I always feel like I can read Chrissie's mind. Forgetting how she obsesses about food, I had given her some leftover biscuits that I had made for breakfast a few days earlier. That's why she has moved the doormat and my shoes. She lays exactly on the seam of the door, flush up against it, so that I have to step over her. "Got any more of those biscuits?" she seems to say.
I prepare the house for tomorrow, when a friend is coming. We toured together many years ago, and it turns out he is tap dancing at a studio five minutes from my house! One day of rest teaches me to slow down, relax, and feel gratitude.