Everyday Minuets #1

 Minuet by Frederick Hendrick Kaemmerer

Sometimes a topic for this blog easily comes to me, but sometimes I just want to write--like in a journal. Not necessarily about anything in particular, but still with some centering purpose. Perhaps rather than the grand, universal  theme, it's the little details comprising a typical day that can inspire the most contemplative food for thought.

This morning after playing with her cats and getting dressed, Beezy wanted to go outside to the trampoline and practice her tumbling. Yesterday she had discovered that she could do somersaults on the trampoline, which she had learned a few years ago in tumbling classes but had since forgotten how to do. She created two variations on the somersault, one of them being the simple, standard type, the other done with more forward-propelling energy and panache. She decided she liked the 2nd one best!

So this morning I watched out the window unbeknownst to her and saw her lying on her back on the trampoline. Then she got up and practiced the somersaults, talking to herself along the way. At another point she was lying down again. There was a definite system at work here, organically developed. On a late summer day while most children are confined to an indoor classroom, Beezy is teaching herself something important, evaluating her own progress, working toward her own method and goals. Out in the fresh air, soaking up sunshine. Resting when she needs to rest, working when she is compelled to work. Self-directed.

This is like a minuet--an old-fashioned, slow, graceful dance, done in 3/4 time... We will get to our formal "school" time, but first we have a heavy, mysterious package to open from Beezy's grandmother who lives in New Mexico. We have the pleasure of allowing our day to unfold.

So here is my proposition: I will write from now until I am done with the experiment in a series of minuets, reminding me that life is a dance, and it is a slow one to be savored. We will pay attention. Listen for the inner promptings, the whispers that will guide us if we are willing to hear the musical strains all around us; find the freedom within the form.