Take a Moment to Live in The Moment

This morning, I decided that I would be rather adventurous - I gave my golden retriever a bath.

Suffice it to say that I have developed a more profound respect for dog groomers than I have ever had before.

I used to bathe my dogs quite frequently, in my younger years. Although all of the dogs that we have owned have weighed in excess of fifty to seventy-five pounds, I always felt that if I were responsible for my pets, I’d groom them myself. Driveways and the basketball pole worked really well for springtime, summer and early autumn baths. In the winter, I allowed my bathroom to become decorated with dog hair, as the hounds enjoyed a romp in the bathtub. After all, it was the season for decorating, was it not?

As times have changed and I have grown older, I have found that using the groomer has become a lot more convenient – and a whole lot kinder to my back and lower extremities. Puppy comes home, fresh and clean, smelling of soap and conditioner, and has sported a buff or two in the past. She’s even come home with ribbons in her ears, which actually were rather adorable – but also lended itself to the appearance of her being even goofier than she already is.

Golden Girl is getting on in years as well, so the experience was most likely a lot more traumatic for her than it was for myself. As I rubbed the shampoo over her back and hind legs, I could see the tremors starting in her paws, which slowly progressed up into her thigh and stifle. I made the process as gentle as I could, but I think she just wanted to break away and hide under the bushes.

Once the bath was over, the leash was removed, and I set her free, to run about the yard (or canter, as best she could.) Unfortunately, she felt the need to roll about in the dirt beneath the forsythia, and I had to chase her around the yard to give her another bath. She was filthy in a matter of moments. All the while, she had that big tongue lolling about her mouth, with some sort of lopsided smile planted on her fuzzy face. Yep, goofy.

Luna, our year old Jack Russell/Beagle mix, was having no part of the adventure. If I weren’t already sufficiently exhausted from bathing and then running after Candy, chasing Luna around for the next ten minutes proved to drain me of every last bit of patience I had. I called my daughter, who had just pulled up the driveway, to trap the puppy. Once I had her in tow, it was off to the basketball pole, though a glance at her face proved that she clearly was not a happy camper. A rather compliant bather, her cleansing took less than five minutes – she is a lot shorter than my golden, and she only weighs in at about 35 pounds. Talk about being grateful for small miracles!

I could literally hear my back complaining as I straightened up; hunched over the dogs for forty-five minutes had taken its toll. Each creak and crackle of my spine remind me that, although I practice yoga to keep me flexible, I’m not so young anymore, and I cannot take my body for granted. I spent the rest of the hour in simple stretches, in order to work out the kinks that had formed at the base of my spine.

We’re only given one body, and we are responsible for its care and keeping. We all know the drill – we’ve heard it a thousand times in our lifetime, and we will hear it at least another thousand times before our lives are through: Eat your veggies, exercise, get plenty of sleep, drink eight glasses of water a day, don’t smoke…there are so many sage tidbits of advice that I could insert here, but I am certain that you have heard them all. However, we think that we are limitless, and continue to act as though we are invincible. “Weekend Warriors” are usually seen, the following week, in hospital emergency departments with injuries incurred while trying to do too much at once. We have somehow adopted an “all or nothing” mentality in our culture, and it needs to stop. When did we stop believing in moderation? When did Life start spinning, wildly, out of control?

When we do things slowly, at our own pace, it feels uncomfortable. We believe that we have to “do it now”, or it just isn’t going to get done. Putting off until tomorrow has a tendency to generate a whole lot of anxiety, for we have a laundry list of other items on our “to do” list that we have to get to before…Before what?

It’s time to slow down, to learn to breathe, to stop taking Time for granted. We’ve filled our days with so much planning, so many activities, that we have forgotten how to take a moment and actually look at our children’s faces. Speaking of activities, our children are becoming overscheduled, as well. When is it time to relax? Do we truly want our children to be as harried and frazzled as we are? When do we put an end to the madness?

I believe that a revolution is in order, my friends. It might very well be time for each and every one of us to take a few minutes, every day, to listen to the sound of our own breath. To stop running to that meeting, or to put the phone down in order to really savor the food that we are tasting. When was the last time that you actually looked at the petals of a rose? Or ran outside to gaze at storm clouds as they gathered outside your window? When was the last time that you truly heard the rain on your rooftop, when it wasn’t drowned out by the sounds of a television, an iPod, or other forms of noise pollution in your home? If you don’t take the time to make the time now, the question clearly becomes plain: If not now, when?

There is no crime in being busy, but there is truly such a thing as being too busy. We live in a world where medication is easily dispensed in order to deal with the anxieties of Life, and we willingly comply with this behavior. Yet, if we stop, and really use our five senses, we might find that we can slow ourselves down enough to listen to our own thinking processes. I am not saying that this will in any way take the place of prescribed medication. I am merely suggesting that if we can slow down, in order to live in the moment, and to enjoy that moment, no matter what it brings, we might be able to find the happiness that we’re looking for.

I’m really grateful that giving Candy and Luna a bath today caused me a twinge of pain in my back. It really helped me to slow down and understand the importance of taking it easier. I do, in fact, remember the feel of the hot sun on my skin and the wonderful relief as cool pellets of water soothed me as the dogs shook off their drenched fur. I remember the scent of lavender and lemon, as I poured the shampoo over their wet fur, which itself has a rather distinct aroma. I slowed down enough to actually hear the birds, where I gave pause and smiled. I’m so glad that I took a few moments to really be there, right in the moment, to experience it all.

Right now, I’m going to finish this writing and go outside. The storm clouds are gathering, and I’d like to be able to enjoy the sound of the thunder, as it echoes off in the distance. I’d like to be able to breathe in the scent of rain in the air, and I’d like to be able to feel the cool breeze of an approaching frontal system on my skin. I’m going to look at the newly bloomed lavender flowers in my yard, their violet faces turned up to greet me as I pluck a tender leaf off and give it a taste. Just a few minutes a day, folks – that’s all it takes. It could make a huge difference in your life, but don’t take my word for it. Give it a try. It might make the difference between a very bad day and a really cool one.