Relish

 Relish is a term that I find difficult to define with words. When I think about relishing something, feelings come to mind instead: slowly savouring the last morsel of a decadent dessert, sipping the last mouthful of a perfect cup of coffee, or the pause and acknowledgement between friends of quality time spent together.  What strikes me about these examples is how they all seem to occur at the end of something special, leaving me to wonder what would happen if we could relish tender moments while IN the moment. 

I pondered this as I returned home from a relaxed morning dip on the weekend.  Stepping out of my car, I noticed the bird song filling the air, and a daring thought crossed my mind.  What would happen if, instead of busying myself with putting away my dipping gear and moving into the next parts of my day, I took what was left of my post-dip coffee and sat on the front porch for a few moments to relish the start of the day?  There was only one way to find out, so I went against the ingrained tendency of being a human doing and decided to try the role of human being.  I dropped my dipping bag off, grabbed that coffee, and slipped back outside to my front porch, where I plunked myself down on a seat, closed my eyes, and allowed the sun to bathe my face.  It was magical.

The longer I sat, the more relaxed I could feel myself becoming.  As I allowed myself to soften into this experiment, I started to notice how much louder the birds were becoming, and how much quieter my mind was, in comparison.  For one of the first times, I was able to be fully present and immersed in the moment, not considering or prioritizing my next steps.  All that mattered was being there and absorbing all I could.  

It is often in times like these when I find myself slipping into the role of witness.  Instead of being part of the experience, I become a third-party stepping out of myself to eavesdrop and report back later.  I used to think that this was all part of being present, but after this morning realized how much I was missing out on by allowing this to take over.  As much as witnessing ourselves is important, allowing ourselves to be vulnerable and open to take in what is happening as it happens feels like a bigger part of truly inviting in self-awareness.  Once we switch into witness mode, we almost become a narrator of our experience and lose the depth of what is taking place.  

So for those 20 minutes or so, before the sun rose too high in the sky, I simply allowed myself to be there.  To take in the sounds and goings on without an agenda, without explanation, and without expectation.  And I am glad that I did because the experience was far beyond anything I could have imagined, and I know I would have short-changed it had I tried to label it ahead of time.  It is amazing how profound that short break was, and how it set me up to face the full day I had ahead of me.  I am grateful that I listened to the inner calling for a pause, and I hope that my experience inspires you to pause and relish, too. 

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