Hammock Mondays

~A new commitment to meet myself and you in the hammock once a week~

Recently I wrote about purchasing a hammock and how glorious it felt to let my whole body fall into the hold of woven rope and gravity.  Over the past two weeks, we’ve had many a family gathering in the sweetness of hammock and we’ve all spent WAY more time outdoors together. (Not to mention 5 am snuggling in the hammock when Dylan wakes up too early).

But my solo time there has not been as much as I’d like. So I’m beginning a weekly hammock date with myself, you and my computer. A computer in a hammock is a bit odd, but somehow works for me.

I want these dates to be without pressure, for the sake of sheer beauty and pleasure and with the flavor of a day that unfolds at its own pace with one delicious thing after another.

Having said that,  as I meet you here this fine Monday, I am not yet fully melded with HAMMOCK. I’m a little inwardly rushed, a little hot and a little crinkled. My mind is racing  and though my body is reclined, it is not yet relaxed.

So. I am now going to let the hammock DO IT’S WORK.

Let’s talk a little about LETTING IT BE. I want to talk a little about this because I have no idea how to do it. As I sit in the hammock, I’m looking out at our backyard and I feel myself silently listing all the things that are wrong. Here’s a taste:

1. The grass is dead in many areas
2. The tomato plant has withered.
3. There are several piles of dirt all around the yard from a project we’re doing with the front of the studio.
4. Our side deck needs yummy patio furniture and has needed it for 2 years.
5. Our picnic table needs to be sanded.

I could go on. But I quite decisively won’t. Instead, as THE STATE OF HAMMOCK seeps into my bones, I want to tell you about something that happened here on Saturday morning.

Over the last 5 months, my six year old daughter has been yearning to put on the play Man of La Mancha with her friends. She rehearsed songs in the studio by herself for hours at a time. She gathered kids at school to play different parts and they rehearsed during playtime. She was determined. She started inviting people to the play before we even thought of how it might happen. Meredyth received an invitation. She wrote back and said that of course she would be there. And then asked WHEN? And WHO? And WHERE? And HOW?  Meredyth and I looked at each other and knew we had to help Kate manifest this dream. So, I invited kids and Meredyth planned a week of theatre camp. And just this Saturday, they performed in our backyard. Towards the end of the 17 minute show, Kate locked eyes with her imaginary star and sang, “To Dream the Impossible Dream.” This is a moment I will NOT forget. Ever. It was vulnerable and sweet and determined and full and earnest. (Many months before when rehearsing, she’d emerged from the studio in tears telling me that the song was just too beautiful).

So, here I sit on Hammock Monday fully breathing in that moment. The windmill from the show is still up. (A ladder covered with a brown sheet and cardboard arms). The 30 family members and friends that came to see the show are still very present.

And writing this one little paragraph has softened how I’m looking at things. Ten minutes of breathing in that beauty. I could look at the pile of dirt or I could look at the still pulsing LIFE in this backyard. It’s pulsing with the sweetness of dreams fulfilled and amazing supportive friends. It’s dancing with community and creativity and dear God, yes, butterflies. (Seriously, one just flew by).

So, I’m practicing Letting it Be. Because when I can and when I do, I have hammock eyes– soft and receiving. And when I can and do, an inner rhythm begins to sound. A heart beat. A breath. A silence.

Ah yes.

That’s better.

Nap time now.

Over and out.

And big love to all.

******

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