Moments when time does not matter

There are fashionable terms in our culture that address the issue of us learning to enjoy the moment. For example I heard from my colleagues back home in Iceland that, as part of their continuing education, they attended lectures on the topic of mindfulness. I and many of my friends practise yoga and/or meditation to find some inner peace and escape from our busy routines. But, here in Mexico I feel I have truly reached moments of complete peace.

I sit in the rocking chair on the veranda, half in the sun and half in the shade, and feel such calm and happiness. The garden is beautiful and I see a Monarch butterfly and another bright yellow one that wonder between the flowers. The birds that come to visit each have their distinct bright colour; blue, yellow and red and they make me think of my grandmother who spent so many hours sitting on her patio in Þingvellir, admiring the birds and looking out on the water. She would have loved being here in San Pablo Etla. Vasilis comes outside and I hear the ice cubes in his coffee and that he sits down under the canopy and lights a cigarette. The faint smell of the cigarette smoke reaches me and for a brief moment it stirs a nostalgic feeling within me. He and Kári have just finished tidying up after lunch. Orri is in Oaxaca meeting up with a photographer at a gallery and Eyja has been teaching the boys all morning. Over lunch she asked if it was alright if they continued with their stories and drawings because they were on such a roll that she did not want to break it up. This is exactly what I like to be able to do here; just go with the moment. Too often in school and in our daily lives we interrupt and ruin the flow of work, concentration and creativity because the clock shows this or that. In school we do this because we have such a strict timetable to follow. All teachers probably recognise the frustrating feeling of having to tell their students to pack away their things just when they have reached a phase in their work where you know that ideally they should not be disturbed.

Even when we don’t need to hurry or be governed by the clock, we tend to rush our children out of habit. I have to remind myself as I pick up my sons from school that I need to allow them to take their time, play and explore on their own terms. They have been sitting more or less still for six hours when the bell rings and after school they need to run and have fun with as little interference as possible. (That might mean that I have to put on extra layers of clothes or bring a thermos with coffee to the school ground but I think it is a small price to pay. Besides, soon enough they will be in Iceland and big enough to walk home on their own). And when they are done playing at the school ground and we are walking home, I need to resist the urge of telling them that the clock says this or that. Instead I practise seeing the world as they do and experience the adventure of a great stick or a rusty tin can, the wonder of a bended nail etc. I need to realize that the signposts are not merely signpost but an invitation to swing or climb, that this low brick fence is ideal for practising balance and jumping and the lines on the side walk are so dangerous that stepping on one may kill you. On these walks from school in Iceland and in Canada I have had some of the best moments and best conversations with all my four children and often been thankful for not owning a car or a cell phone which might easily have caused me to miss these moments.