I adore reading. It is absolutely one of my favourite things.
Reading has always felt like an escape. An escape from what, you ask? Well ... an escape from my own mind and the constant chatter that resides there. Between the pages of a book, life on the outside seems to pause. As I disappear into the fictional world at my fingertips, other thoughts seem to melt into the crevices. They'll be back, but for a while at least, they're quiet. Even though the words I'm reading were written by someone else, sometime in the past, in the moment I read them, they come to life. These words are the beginning and the end of that moment.
When I read, I become completely absorbed. I am mindfulness in action.
Maybe reading's not your thing, but the moment you sink into a deep bath you feel the same. Or perhaps it's when you're painting, knitting, programming, doing mathematical equations ...
It can feel a little indulgent doing something you love so much, especially if it doesn't have any external, tangible benefit ... People might think you're, you know, slack.
Today, while my son napped, I read. It felt good, but also a little naughty. Isn't that completely ridiculous? Yet, we're so caught up in doing, that this is what we've created: a mindset that says if you're not doing, achieving, multitasking,busy ... then you're not worthy. Well, I think that's rubbish. This week is about doing something I love, that is mindful, and tossing the guilt aside.
For me, that's reading every day.