The Things We Touch
Every day we put on clothes, we pick things up, we cook, we slide our fingers across our keyboards and our phones – mindlessly. And yet, in each of these is a touch, a texture, a temperature. The fabric we wear is stretchy, silky, or soft; the dishes are cool and hard. Food has endless textures: bumpy, crumbly, or even slimy.
How often do we notice?
What if we paid as much attention to the water running over our bodies in the shower as we did the pillow we lay our heads down on each night? What if we were as mindful of the softness of the scarf we wrap around our neck as we are the tag that scratches at our back?
Here is what I do notice:
- A new book, its pages crisp and clean
- The warmth from my children when we curl up on the couch
- The weight and softness of the throw I cover my legs with while I relax
- The heat of a fresh cup of coffee
- A pair of fuzzy reading socks
- A hot bath
- The almost-spring sun as it heats the inside of the car
- Ice-cold water during hot yoga (and the grip of my mat during asanas)
- The smooth keys of the keyboard while I type
- The curved edges and ridged buttons on my camera
This mindfulness challenge began to help create more awareness in my photography; it is helping to create more awareness in my life.
We were walking along the shore of the lake and my son called out to me that he had found sea glass. I thought for sure it was a jagged piece of glass, leftover from a broken bottle, but in his hand was a softened, sanded piece of “sea” glass. I could believe it.
When we left the Maritimes, I thought I was leaving my sea glass searching days behind. Yet here was a piece of glass so similar to sea glass I’d never know the difference. And if there was one, there must be more.
Sure enough, as we walked we spotted more. I came home with a small handful of glass, including a yellow piece, to add to my collection.
It may not be from the sea, but it’ll do.
If you’ve been following my posts, you know that I have been waiting (impatiently) for the snow to melt. I have been itching to go to the beach, but until this week there was so much ice and snow that it wouldn’t have been safe, let alone enjoyable.
The snow is not completely gone, but the beach is finally accessible.
I took a drive to my favourite spot for collecting sea glass, and spent more than two hours wandering the shoreline.
It was bliss.
I was the only person on the beach, with the salt breeze and the rushing water as company. The tide was out and the sea glass was plentiful.
The only difficulty was leaving.