I do not meditate. No one would call me stoic or sanguine. But after the last election, I’m searching for something, anything, to balance the rage that I still feel at the results. It’s a good, clean rage that has given me a sense of resilience I’ve never before experienced. But sustaining it, while tempting, will not lower my blood pressure (which has been a bit too high for some time now) or help me sleep.
So I’m looking for something else to hold on to and I’ve settled on paying attention to little moments—of joy, of contentment, of quiet, and occasionally of rage.
My first little moment came during an epic Sunday walk with my husband and dog, Ralphie. (There will be a lot of little moments that start that way). We had just left Cathedral Coffee in North Portland. Across the street, a small blizzard of yellow leaves fell, swirling in the late autumn breeze. It was a tiny moment of joy in a week of yuck and I held it as long as I could without strangling it. Then, lighter than I’d felt in days, I caught up with Dave and Ralphie to make our way home.