This weekend, a stop at the local organic farm yielded some yummy late summer treats: cucumbers, swiss chard, green beans, a miniature watermelon, and two small heads of cabbage.
The afternoon was dry and 70-degrees with just enough of a breeze to appease my summer-weary spirit, and I could not resist a chance to visit the woods for a walk afterwards.
It had been a while since I quieted my mind with a long walk, so I stepped onto the path with much anticipation.
It didn’t take long to fall into a familiar rhythm — the neglected and random thoughts each forcing themselves to the front so quickly they became a dull hum by the time I reached the top of the first hill.
At that point, it’s always easy for me to stop paying attention to them, and instead begin careful attention to the moment right in front me of.
The blue jay.
The oak tree.
The pine needles.
My attention. My mantra.
I should make kimchi!
The thought stepped up so loudly it was as if there was someone right next to me!
A quieted mind seems to be that way – it is, and then it isn’t.
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©2012, Jen Payne