What do I find comfort in?
I was thinking about that as I sat slowly rocking in the glider this afternoon. I holding my son who has just awakened from an afternoon nap. We sat quietly together for about 10 minutes. I had my legs on the ottoman. His bottom rested on my lap. His head rested on my left shoulder with his face away from me. He sucked contentedly on his pacifier with his left arm laying across my chest. His little hand came up next to my right ear and his fingers casually rubbed the tips of my hair. There was a sense of calm and a sense that that moment was just what he needed. I must need it too because I look forward to that few minutes each day.
I had another odd moment of peace today. There I stood next to the ironing board pressing my husband's button-down shirt. As I continued to spray starch and smooth out the wrinkles with each shirt I found that my mind was settled. My thoughts weren't racing endlessly from one topic to another. I wasn't making lists in my mind of what I needed to accomplish this weekend. I was focused on getting each shirt pressed as neatly as possible. I even have a specific order that I go through as I iron each shirt. The collar gets done first, then the shoulder areas, the cuffs come next, followed by the sleeves, and the body of the shirt gets done last. Each shirt goes through the same process. Then each shirt is buttoned up the same way. The second, fourth, and sixth buttons get done along with the collar. I think my mind finds a sense of comfort in the process. Each step is precise. I don't have to think about a lot of miscellaneous junk.
I must go through to a meditative state when I iron like I used to when I would run. I'm sure that other runners know what I'm talking about. Your mind goes blank. I would concentrate on my breathing. In-in-out. In-in-out. I would listen to my feet pounding against the ground. I would think about keeping my head up instead of looking at the ground as I swung my arms in a controlled manner. I'd look straight ahead like I was on a mission. I would run on a few busy streets and I never noticed the cars whizzing by me. It was like I was in a bubble. Writing this makes me think about how much I miss running and how I felt when I did it. That sense of quiet. That sense of accomplishment. That sense of comfort. Maybe I should get back into it?
What do you find comfort in? A song? A hug? A caramel macchiato? You might find like I did that comforting moments can be the smallest moments in your day but they do uplift your spirits in that snipet of time.