Slow Doughnut Weather

I have to come clean and pronounce that I am a doughnut-aholic. I'm admittedly out of my rhythm when I don't start my day with one (or two) and a cup of coffee. It's been a long time in the forming, but I do enjoy my little routine of driving down the street to Byerly's, bantering with Judy over 'the game' and getting my glazed old-fashioned doughnut(s) to go. I start brewing the coffee before I leave so that's it's ready when I get home.

And I'd have to say that over several years I have discovered a science to eating doughnuts. Especially when I have two. And let's just say for the sake of argument that I always have two. There is a strong tendency to devour the first one, making my way into the second almost without noticing the first. I'll have a book in one hand, cup of coffee in another and donut in the third. With the multi-tasking going on, I've found myself halfway into the second without even realizing it. I grasped that not only was this a cherished short time to enjoy the morning, but in breezing through doughnut 1, I'd miss the taste, the texture, the mysterious combination of bitter coffee and the sugar of the doughnut. So I had to consciously change my approach.

I started going slow with doughnut 1. I'd take a bite, sip coffee and let the two dance together for a moment. I'd read a paragraph and then repeat. The philosophy is pretty simple: if you're going to eat something other than fruits or vegetables, something that doesn't have a lot of nutritional value, at least enjoy it! It's like snarfing a Big Mac (which, truthfully, I haven't had in years). What a waste.

In slowing the process down, I experienced more. I felt the rigid contours of fried and frosted deliciousness, I saw the spirals of steam wafting from the coffee, I experieced the clashing of the complementary solid and liquid. I got more out of this little ritual.

This past week in Minneapolis has been breathtaking. It's a particular week of the year that I want to bottle. There is a strong tendency (usually when I'm walking our dog Tabby) to get the job done, mission accomplished, snarf the doughnut. Walk to the end of Evergreen and back, get the dog exercised. But this week in particular I looked up, around, behind me. I witnessed a glowing full moon, a sky painted with pink and magenta, trees that bounced orange and yellow from its leaves. The crisp, quiet air only added to the wonder of the scene. I took the mural in with my nose, my eyes, my ears and it was so delicious.

The days keep moving faster. I can't get this morning's ritual back. I can't get back the walk last evening. I can only move slower, breathe more, taste more...be present more. Allow the weight, the tension, the joy, the sorrow of each moment to be a gift shared with God. I can choose to feel an airy sunset on my face, to slow down my words, soak in smiles and conversations, enjoy being closer to to who I am supposed to be.