Adjusting to the Slowness After All This Time

This may end up being a "part one" of many as I am sure there are more adjustments to be had to this slowness.
My days are different than before. There is a slowness that is delicious and seeps in without conscious effort to flow through the day and color it accordingly.

Before, in the city, I would wake up and wander into the kitchen to make food- or not- the children were pretty hip on the whole quick oatmeal front. Funny since I love old fashion oats but they liked that they could quickly prep their own oatmeal and flavor it to preference (usually honey, butter, cinnamon and a splash of vanilla extract). Then I floundered a bit, not sure where to put myself even after so many years in one lovely place. I called friends and tried to make plans - to keep busy and social. I am so social afterall.

Now, I wake up, walk down with three happy dogs around my feet- so happy at the prospect of right now and life- period- to let them out. I gaze at the yard and our little woods and the river and shake my head in wonder- this little parcel of land with everything that was on our wish list back when we were trying to manifest this that people thought was impossible.
Then I put the kettle on and some oatmeal with raisins and almonds- all organic from my thoughtful mother who made sure my cupboard, freezer and refrigerator were full when we arrived- with all my favorite foods (can you say 8 packages of breakfast sausage??!) and look around at this house to see where my efforts will be best used for the day. I know, it has only been a couple weeks but it feels new and fresh with wonder every day- and old and worn in with love from us and others- all at once. I know this place and my heart is settling in to what is- this house is alive and it speaks with love everyday to everyone who crosses the threshold.

I give the dogs their food on the back deck- following the pack order carefully so that there is no confusion- and then the cat wanders up to cuddle and I give her her bowl.
This morning I cleaned the stove- the big gas range that happened to arrive with the house and thought,  "Thank you for this stove- it serves us well, thank you."
I opened the fridge to retrieve milk for the tea and remembered the dairies I had driven past with the same image from the carton in my hand on the side of the barns and smiled that I had seen those cows in the fields and barns.

  

I let the dogs in and watched them wag their tails and smile at me- they do that you know- dogs smile a lot- like dolphins-- some species on this planet just have it down pat. Don't we all need more smile lines?

Then the children started coming down and the oatmeal was self served and we talked about the rest of the day- the visit to the middle school for a tour and to meet the cool principal in person (someone who was talking astrology with me within 10 minutes of our initial phone conversation), errands to run including grabbing hotdogs for a bonfire in the back later today.

And through all this there is no urgency- no feeling that I am being pressured to move faster. The funniest part is that I didn't know that I was feeling the urgency to move faster than my natural pace before now- before the urgency fell away. But I understand this now.
I understand that without meaning to there was an energy of constant motion and constant needs that should be met but the origin of those needs were so ancient and old that they were almost unidentifiable. So, I answered them by thinking that I must go out and do and earn money and buy things and purchase a life that looked right and full- though anyone will tell you I am not a big spender at all.

But there was a drive to fill a hole somewhere deep inside and now, as I remember the depth of that dark night sky full of stars, uninterrupted by city lights that we saw last night from the back deck. And I wonder at the shooting star we saw blaze across the blackness. And as we watched those bats dipping and diving for mosquitoes (another thank you), I realized that the hole in me was filled by the presence of the natural world around me. That ache that was so present that it looked like so may other things and was therefore never full, was suddenly less, only a whisper, as it was soothed.
I wonder how many ailments we have that would be healed by moving into nature, settling into the country and quiet and looking up at that night sky.

Would we find ourselves in the rustle of the leaves?
In the sway of the grass in the fields?
In the flow of the water of oceans and rivers?
Would we see ourselves and the star dust we are made of up in the dome of that infinite black sky?
I don't know about you but I'm up for the journey to self and I can only wonder how we got so far from ourselves and all the soil, leaves, stars and dew drops we came from.