I feel delight in the times I am able to root down through my senses. Spring brings such an amazing opportunity to practice. When I can feel the soft ground after a soaking rain, feel the warmth of the sun as it starts to peak through the clouds, see a vibrant rainbow arching through the sky, hear the sound of my breath and it rhythmically enters and exits my body, and taste the last of the raindrops as they fall from my face. It is so amazing to have so much information to process in a single moment.

One place I found the ability to be still and listen is during acupuncture appointments. I find a deep sense of relaxation and release as the needles are placed. Then I can feel nestled by the soft sheet over my body, feeling my body supported by the table and knee bolster. In that space, I feel safe and relaxed enough to be open, yet alert enough to hear. I can find the same in prayer, though it is much more hit and miss. I am grateful that I know what stillness and listening feels like so I can find that in other areas of my life.

My moments of greatest contentment are at the end of the day when my work is done, my body is tired, my mind feels empty, and my soul find rest. As I nestle in between my cool sheets and fuzzy blanket, I can feel the world melt away as my eyes start to close. It’s not frequent that all the factors are present for the perfect storm of contentment, but writing this reflection certainly helps me to ponder ways I can achieve the balance I need for my mind, body, and soul. I also find contentment when my kiddos are acting with love and compassion towards each other and their friends, when my husband falls asleep next to me, when there is a thunderstorm and Mother Nature puts on a tremendous light show, when there is a howling blizzard and I can watch the snow as it falls from the comfort of my home, and watching the bird nest built on top of a downspout where the birds return every year. As I write this, I am struck by how many things I can describe as bringing contentment, but I don’t think I appreciate it so much in the moment. Perhaps something to strive for…being present and open to a moment of contentment.

Last night, I was baptized and confirmed into the Catholic Church. As I look out into the future, I am struck by the anxiety of uncertainty. The spiritual path I have walked the past 30+ years of life is well worn, full of knots, holes, and crushing walls where I defined what my faith was and wasn’t, the places God was and wasn’t, the compartmentalized spaces that separated my mind, body, and soul. This path provided an the comforting illusion of control. Last night marked my recognition that the path of my past had come to an end. This morning, I awoke knowing that I don’t know what my future path will look like. The space is vast. There is no well tread path, the walls are down, and the freshly tilled soil shows evidence of freshly planted seeds in need of care and water to root down and sprout. The anxiety to leave the familiar for something foreign and new is a tremendous opportunity. I once hid my fear behind walls of control. Today is the opportunity to let the light of faith, hope, and love warm the freshly planted seeds of a reformed heart. The gnawing anxiety of being inside my self made prison is now replaced by a softer anxiety, one that urges action to nourish, to grow, to tend to the garden of my soul. For this change, I am grateful.