Howie, the newest of our lovable four-legged critters, and I were up early, and on the road for an early start to the day. It was vet day for our beloved pup, and I had scheduled the appointment for first thing in the morning so that I'd still have time for the other appointments I had throughout the day.
However, despite getting out the door and on the road in plenty of time, I couldn't shake the feeling of already being behind on the day's agenda. It was an irrational feeling, of course. A trick of my mind which wants to continuously feel the pressure of deadlines, the result of 30-plus years in deadline driven professions.
Yes, my schedule was busy for the day, but it was manageable and consisted of tasks and meetings about things I love and things that make my heart grow. The anxiety I felt wasn't real. ... Other than it was ... because, you know, we make it real.
Having grown accustomed to such tricks my mind plays, I began to employ my most effective coping skill, which involves intentionally focusing on my breathing.
It goes like this ...
Ok, concentrate on a couple of long breaths here ... inhale for the count of 10, imagining that fresh, new air the color of spring green is flowing in through my nose, and then exhale for the same count, pushing out the stale air the color of yellow or orange -- or even red on rare occasion depending on the circumstances -- through my mouth.
Repeat and repeat, slowly and methodically ... until I can feel the world slowing down around me.
I developed this breathing technique several years ago thanks to a spiritual practices exercise in which I participated. The colors are symbolic, of course, used to describe the air I'm inhaling and exhaling -- green for new, fresh, clean ... and yellow/orange/red for stale, depleted, out of use.
But the effect the oxygen has on our brain and body most definitely isn't symbolic.
Additionally, I've found using this breathing tactic, along with simultaneously praying, tends to slow my racing mind and correspondingly quickening heart rate, bringing me back to a rational place.
So there I was, this morning, racing down the highway against some imaginary time clock, trying to arrest my mind, spirit and heart rate before they got away from me, chanting silent prayers for peace, when the eastern sky exploded as if it where on fire!
The morning's sun was coming over horizon, and viewed behind the gauzy whites and grays of low morning clouds, the view through my windshield was as if I was watching a Renaissance artist painting a canvas in real time.
And, I guess I really was, if you think about it.
I was caught in my reverie only briefly before I was brought back to this earthly plane by Howie brushing up against my shoulder. Not one who likes cars rides, Howie generally curls up in a ball on the backseat until we arrive at our destination. He's not a front seat straddler by any means, but this morning, there he was, front paws planted on the front seat arm rest, and he too was staring out the windshield.
Now, despite how smart we think Howie is, I admit that this might be anthropomorphizing a bit when I say that I swear he was as awe struck by the sunrise as I was! Call me loony; go ahead. But I was there! He was watching the sunrise!
And it was in that moment, that I heard God speak, saying: “Be still, and know that I am God!” (Psalm 46:10) Some will call this poppycock, of course. An imaginary episode created by an overactive imagination. ... But I've stopped wrestling with these unexplained instances of hearing God speak long ago, accepting that only I need to know they are real.
As my eyes darted between the sunrise and Howie's intense gaze at the horizon in the mirror, I felt an overwhelming desire to pull to the side of the road, put the pickup in park and take in the sunrise with Howie without distraction.
So, I found the nearest entrance to a farm field along the county highway, pulled in parallel to the road and put the pickup in park. And there Howie and I sat, enjoying this magnificent natural event. I scratched him between his ears like he likes, and I went back to my breathing exercise and prayers.
Green air in; yellow air out. ... Lord bring me peace. Over and over for several minutes.
Eventually, feeling restored, filled with the Holy Spirit's peace and realizing that today was going to be a fantastic day full of things I love, I felt as if I could return to the road.
"What do you think, Howsers?" I asked. "Should we go see that vet?"
And like it was scripted, he slid off the front seat arm rest and resumed his curled up cruising position on the back bunk.
Once back on the road, I sneaked a look at the dash clock, and realized that even keeping the truck at a steady speed limit, I'd still be to the vet's office with a good 10 minutes to spare.
Turns out that I was never behind schedule at all, but my mind wanted to believe I was. I wanted to be too busy to see the majestic beauty of the sunrise. I wanted to be too busy to stop alongside a road and watch the sun with our dog.
Because that is what we do, right? We convince ourselves there isn't time to just "be." ... We convince ourselves that what matters is only that we "do."
It's all nonsense, and we'd realize that if only we let ourselves. ... God doesn't measure our lives in accomplishments or boxes checked. God measures it in relationships, our relationship with God and with others.
Including with pups you take the time to watch sunrises with.
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