It was only an hour. I wouldn't have thought it, but a check-in with the clock said it was true. It felt like so much longer, somehow. Felt decadent and lavish, like it should be reserved for someone big and important. But it was just us out there beside the river on that ordinary November day.
It's times like this, when the holidays are quickly approaching, bringing with them the tendency to feel overwhelmed, that I especially need to remember to get out there often. Into the wild. My body and soul need to step outside my small world and engage in an experience greater than I am; my lungs need to breathe air not contained by any structure; my eyes need to see further than the other side of the room. My mind needs to be blown, if only by the sound of water over rocks and the color of flaxen grass in the evening sun.
It brings my world back into perspective, settles the too-big back down to size. It's the pre-holiday prescription, to be taken every day. We swished through chest-high grass, stood beside the mirror water, watched deer tails flash as they ran away. When the cheeks were sufficiently ruddy and fingertips sufficiently tingly, we headed for home and the hot tea, blank page, and sharpened pencil that would begin a plan for the coming holidays.
How about you? Is there a place or experience that grounds you in the holiday weeks?