My husband and I spent part of the day yesterday doing outside seasonal chores. We cleaned gutters. (Well, he cleaned them. I held the ladder and emptied the leaf bucket.) We dug the annuals out of the ceramic planters and put the planters away in the barn. We took down the humming bird feeders and wrought iron plant hanger. And we brought the firewood rack over near the backdoor. It was a beautiful fall day, sunny and crisp with a slight breeze. We worked mostly in silence. Our soundtrack was the birds calling and the soft sshhhhhh of the leaves rustling. And it was so peaceful.

So much of what we both do all week is mentally and emotionally stressful. There are always so many deadlines to meet, so many people who depend on us to get things done. By the time the weekend comes, we are both worn down. Just the act of focusing on simple, physical tasks is calming. The noise in your head turns down. Your monkey mind chills out for awhile. It’s like opening up all the windows and clearing out the stale, dead air. In a way, it’s a meditation.

Don’t get me wrong, we were both tired when we finished. My hands hurt and my husband’s legs were killing him. But we could look around and feel satisfaction at what was accomplished.

Sometimes you can find peace in a beautiful setting. Sometimes you can find peace in quite reflection. And sometimes you can find peace in the good, honest work of your hands.


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