A waltz that works as a meditation and references a dying poet is my kind of music. It’s the sort of piece that embodies this meandering post of late spring, when the world about us burns, the sky has turned deadly, and the tenuous hold we each think we have on the universe has been knocked out of our desperate grasp. At such a dizzying moment, I find it best to regroup and find peace through mindfulness and beauty, which is also a good way to head into summer – that time of the year when we begin to unwind and relax… so let us waltz.
The Flower Clock ticks its pretty time away but a waltz takes its 3/4 time signature and molds it into whatever the mood demands. For now, that is a meditative pause while we wait, some of us literally, for the air to clear. What might this portend for a summer? Something hot? Something cruel? Something #hotgirl?
These almost-summer days remind me of practicing the oboe – the sound of scales and endless arpeggios marking rhythmic magic in hypnotizing fashion. As the school years neared their end, there was always some recital or concert to form the final anxiety-inducing hurdle, some last-stage test we had to overcome if we were to make it through to summer vacation. I practiced to ease the worry that being unprepared supposedly conjured, even when the worry was so much more than that.
These days, worries come in different forms, more serious and troubling forms, and rather than playing the oboe to calm down (a highly questionable practice in the quest for calm) I’ve continued my daily meditation, pausing for twenty minutes each day to focus on deep breathing and clearing the mind. Mindfulness is the one true solution to lessening worry and anxiety. If you are truly present and occupied by what is immediately around you – each glimpse of prettiness, each peek at simplicity – it pushes more silly concerns to the side.
At this time of the year, there is always something beautiful to be found. A stroll in the yard, no matter how small, can always yield a picture of joy if one slows down enough to notice everything. June is abundant in such beauty, so I’m going to end this post and enjoy the garden on a quiet Sunday morning.
