“Let the thankful heart sweep through the day and,
as the magnet finds the iron,
so it will find, in every hour, blessings.”
– H. W. Becker
Many proverbial irons roasted in life’s fire for me these past weeks. I tried to stay mindful in my approach to each, not neglecting any of the rods, not letting any one of the tips get singed. While stoking each, I noticed an interesting pattern.
Tending to my writing life, I focused on my young adult novel to have something to share at the weekend retreat with my critique group. Poring over the plot line, sketching out characters, I produced a couple of rough drafts of the beginning chapters.
Also heating up for attention: a few yoga presentations. The past two months included several opportunities to introduce yoga to a variety of groups living with PD. I planned for each talk and interactive session, carrying a folder full of notes to each one.
Busy kept happening.
I prepared Power Point slides and printed numerous handouts for a yoga teacher training.
Meanwhile, the Mom in me helped my third-grader with his science project (“Can You Tell the Difference Between a Tortoise and a Turtle by Looking at the Shell?”) and the advocate side of me attended council meetings.
Finally, the art side of my brain added final touches to a painting. Mustering up the courage to enter it into my first juried show, I filled in the appropriate forms and handed off my framed work to a studio volunteer.
What I noticed sweeping through all this busy, all this focus, preparation, planning had little to do with each iron — each task.
My writing weekend wasn’t so much about the pages I produced but the gift I received from the women who gather to share a craft — and sometimes our souls in the making of that craft.
The yoga presentations gave me introductions to more names and faces of those braving to keep ahead of this disease.
Teacher training allowed me the bliss of spending an entire day in a room full of yoga teachers. I learn from each of them and marvel at their passion. By the end of the afternoon, I felt I’d opened a box of dark chocolates, shared them with everyone, and still had plenty to take home.
And while wee hours were spent correcting spelling errors and gluing up the last bits on the science project display boards, I now know quite a bit more about the shape, color and texture of the reptilian carapace. But besides that, nothing quite shines like a kid proud of his work.
Busy happened throughout this past month. What I noticed in all the goings-on is that it’s not about the busy. It’s not about the projects, the to-dos, the irons.
No, it’s all about the magnet. The heart. The thankful heart that brings these souls, these blessings into my every hour.