A blogger friend's recent post reminded me of one of the pleasures of my childhood. He is an excellent blogger with a large, well deserved, following. He mentioned Buddhist prayer flags waving in the wind. I was reminded of the sheets my mother would hang out to dry on our clothesline in the back yard in our little town in New York.
The sheets would billow like the sails on a boat, straining against the wooden clothespins, threatening to take off and fly across the yard. Behind the sheets, the sky seemed a brilliant blue, the wispy (and sometimes fuller) clouds drifting across high above on winds of their own. I would be mesmerized by the contrasts and motion. I would be at peace.
I could recapture that feeling at other times merely by lying on my back on the cool earth and stare up at the sky. The feeling of motion would be so strong I imagined I could feel the spinning of the planet. The smell of the earth, the grass, and the flowers would all blend to enhance my feeling of well being.
It is what I think of when someone says, "Take the time to smell the roses"... even though there was no scent of roses, just honeysuckles and other wildflowers that grew nearby.
We all need to do this from time to time. Even us retired geezers.
I especially need it lately because I have been watching too many political shows. You know, the round-table discussions, the debates between the various strategists and consultants of each party, the interviews of various political figures, all opining about the current political events.
A pox on all their houses. They have upset my psychological equilibrium. I need to lie upon the ground and smell the comforting scent of the flowers and trees and drying linen while I watch the clouds pass lazily overhead.
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