It's almost time!

I'm packed and ready to go to Cozumel.  I slept well last night, so I guess I'm past the worrying phase.  I won't be on the Internet much once I get to Mexico, although I might pop in and say hello to my Facebook friends once or twice using my daughter's phone as a hot spot.  The whole purpose of a vacation is to get away from the usual routine, so it's good for me to be "unconnected" awhile.  I hope I have plenty of stories for a blog entry or two when I get home.  I'll try to take notes.  

Sometimes I think my morning meditation sessions are nothing more than a time-waster (except for how peaceful I feel afterward).  Other times I realize I've learned a lot, the main thing being not to expect things to be a certain way, but to be surprised by whatever happens and accept each moment as it comes.  This second is all we have, and that's how I intend to approach the visit to Cozumel.  I forget this more often than I remember it, but sometimes, magic happens.  I'll give you an example with this story I related on Facebook:

Picture this scenario: Cora's parents were here tending to horses and working with a punctured trailer tire, so Cora came to our house to visit. She and Cliff played with her new, tiny legos awhile, then we decided to have a marching band outside, as we sometimes do. Cora distributed instruments. She gave Cliff the drum, I got maracas, and she played the harmonica. I fastened the Amazon Tap to the hammer-loop of Cliff's overalls, turned up the volume, and told it to playJohn Phillip Sousa songs. Cora led us around to the back yard, so when her parents came to the front door to get her, nobody answered the door. Then we marched around toward the front yard where Cora stopped long enough to find a tambourine to hand to her dad. What could he do but start marching with us! Her mom was laughing and taking a video, but she was soon elected to play the frog, and away we went.

If you should come to visit us and see a child and two old folks marching around the yard to the tunes of John Phillip Sousa, be forewarned that you WILL be added to the band.

If the phrase "play the frog" confused you, here's a picture of the wooden frog.  You pulled the stick out of its mouth and rub it on the frog's bumpy spine and it sounds vaguely like a frog croaking.

I believe I was the one who impulsively suggested we "march".  There was no agenda when I mentioned it, it just happened moment by moment.  It was nice outside and we have marched outside before on unseasonably warm days.  Cora grabbed the box of instruments and carried them all out the door, and then magic took place.  I call it magic because when I looked at the faces, we adults were smiling like crazy; only Cora was dead serious as she led her band of misfits.  I suppose you could call it a zen moment.  

What if, when I don't get coffee immediately upon waking, like I'm accustomed to, I look outside myself and notice the world around me?  What am I missing when I worry about what I'm going to do next and whether it will turn out as expected?  Plenty, I'm sure.  This is where we can take a lesson from small children, who are never concerned with who is president or when they're going to die or if they'll have Alzheimer's or if somebody might think they're weird.  Kids let themselves be surprised by each new moment.

Now, I'm going to make sure my daughter reads this so she can remind me if I get "out of the moment" on this vacation.

Peace.