Take time to stop and smell the roses.
It’s an old sentiment, but one I’m thinking about as I fly home. I’m above the clouds now, and over my shoulder I spy the warming tones of the setting sun.
The sight made me want for Florida at first. But on second thought, what I’m missing is beauty. Winter’s cloudy, chilly mornings have kept me indoors on days I’d rather run.
Running outdoors is my meditation. My journal. It’s high fives to the rabbits who line the greenway, and smiles to the rising sun. It’s awe with flowers blooming in spring, leaves turning in autumn. It’s deep breaths in time with my feet – percussion behind a chorus of birds.
It’s been a while.
Sometimes my entire work day is spent in the bowels of a school. Cinder blocks obstruct the sun and the evergreens right along with cell service. “I’m in a bunker today,” I tell Blue.
The moments left before sunset are spent navigating Atlanta’s traffic. If you wait too late to hit 400 from 285, you might as well stay put another hour or two.
Despite an uncooperative schedule, it’s easy enough to experience beauty.
Seek and ye shall find.
Naturopaths and nontraditional healers often mention the healing properties of sunshine. And depending on where and how we grew up, our parents and grandparents spoke of it, too. My personal relationship with the sun has always been one of respect and admiration… my mood and energy levels often mirror the brightness of the sun. So it pleases me whenever “traditional” research makes linkages between sunshine and good health.
Dr. Donna Baird, a researcher at the National Institute of Environmental Health, suggested that sun exposure of more than an hour per day (Vitamin D) may lead to a decreased risk of fibroids. The results are tentative, and come from a single study of women in the Washington, D. C. area, but plans are underway to survey women in Detroit to see if findings are similar.
As one in a growing number of women who live with uterine fibroids, I’m interested in understanding their causes. Like many complex questions, the more we understand about the genesis of a thing, the more we can do to heal it and prevent it.
Read the NIH press release here.
9 p.m. contemplative. quiet.
slumber soon come and then
first light –
promises made in silent darkness.
black skies give way to lavender wisps.
skies warm and brighten,
heralding crimson dawn.
I took this photo just after 7 a.m. I had planned to write a short missive on morning, my favorite time of day. Well, the day came and went before I had the chance to write. Here it is, nearly 10 p.m., and I’m looking forward to morning again.