Working the Forest into the Trees

We recently came back from a long camping trip in New Mexico. Not surprisingly, I'm still hearing echoes of the wind in the trees and deeply missing the vast, black, star filled nights. Our annual pilgrimage to NM is always filled with laughter, wonder, and exploration. Hanging in a hammock, strung between two sturdy and regal pines, and drinking wine by starlight are always welcome comforts. In the city, the sky is never quite dark and solitude and pure silence are truly non-existant. When there, I never seem to have trouble relaxing. I'm never too busy to play a full blown battle of Star Wars Monopoly. Flashlight wars, skipping rocks in the lake, football tossing, and soccer games flow seamlessly and effortlessly throughout the days. Late night tuck-ins are no big deal and late morning get-ups are even better. It truly is a vacation for the family, for mind, for body and at its very depth, it's rest for my soul.

So, my question is, how to keep that peace not afforded by city life?

When away, in the trees, I see it all - the red bluffs, the pinons, the ponderosas, the meadows, as one beautiful masterpiece. I don't focus in on each piece, it's all part of a beautifully painted whole - the forest. When home, it's different. It's easy to get sucked into the everyday. It's easy to focus on every little detail, instead of looking at the grand scheme of things. Work beckons around every corner. Hustle and bustle, as cliche as the terminology is, is what life is...hectic and ever moving; an endless stream of laundry, dishes, bills, homework, housework, jobs, dinners, and need. Although life is good, it's really not that hard to wonder if I am missing it while living it.

In honor of my growing pains (1st post on here), here's a promise to myself. From here on out, I'm going to let the laundry sit a little longer. The dishes can wait a few more minutes. Homework time will be more fun, and well, the bills, I just have to finally accept that they'll always be there, just as a pesky fly at a picnic is always lurking around your next bite.

So, in honor of this new self-promise, here's a toast to me:

A toast to squeezing more forest into my trees.