I don't often think of moods or states of being as seasonal things, but, as I write this, I'm starting to believe that there just might be something to that theory.
As Finn and I made our way through Woods Park early this morning, a place where clueless squirrels and invisible scents awaited us, I was not expecting to see two teen girls enjoying the playground's swing set. Not yet 7 a.m., the sight of their silent, contented movement, undeterred by the presence of a middle-aged woman and her hound, made me think of a word I love--unabashed.
Summer is an excellent time to put on our unabashed selves, giving not two whits about what others may think of us or our behavior, thankyouverymuch.
As we neared the playground, I held my breath, hoping not to pop the unabashed bubble that protected those girls. Had my shoes been roomier, I believe I would have crossed my toes, too, so as not break the magic of that moment.
I was delighted that they ignored me, unwilling, even, to slow the pumping of their usually self-conscious legs. They were, in a word (or two or three), happily lost in the moment.
Just a week into my own summer, I could relate to their moment of unabashed joy, having already lost myself in books and bike rides and strutting, little dances exploding through me in aisle nine at Target.
For a people obsessed with Google Maps and GPS systems, we really should get lost a bit more. Instead of spending so much time fretting about how to get there--wherever "there" may be--we should be open to unabashedly losing ourselves in the here, unconcerned about the opinions or even the presence of others.
I know I'm asking a lot. But I think we'd be pleasantly surprised by the results, our wet, new wings unfolding in the warm breeze of a summer morning, the possibilities seemingly endless.
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