Ironically I've lost track of time, and as such this post will be short. Today was my day off this week. I woke up late, drank too much coffee, drove around in circles and ended up just sitting on the patio reading a book. All of which was done only to realize I hadn't bought groceries, and I was now out of time. I was impressed that I could do this.
My partner, as always, brought me back to center. Instead of rushing to the car, cursing in line at the store, and running home to get dinner on the table, we decided to walk. We changed the menu, and walked to the farm down the road. We were in time to walk at sunset, and visit just as they were happily closing for the day. We walked back in twilight, and felt like we couldn't have planned it better.
Earlier in the afternoon I had been reading "The Gaelic Otherworld," a tome of 19th century Highland spirituality and folklore. What always impresses me is the number of holidays they celebrated, and just how many prayers and rituals could take place throughout the day because they didn't have Youtube. It only takes a sunset walk to understand in part why they lived this way. Every moment can be, and is, sacred. We are part of an incredible time and place, and being thankful doesn't just serve a guilt complex, but allows us to examine what we have. Filling your day with the sacred doesn't have to mean reciting obtuse rhymes, at least in my practice. If you're thankful, and express that appreciation in feeling and action, then that is un-distilled worship. Ritual is important as it connects us through time and distant places, but the core of it all is being in a state of awe at our own existence and the connection we feel with others. There's nothing wrong with finding that feeling as you walk to the store because you forgot the damn arugula.