A tree that has dropped all its leaves covers half the frame on the left, and at the end of the lawn beneath its branches a wooden bench stands facing the lake. On the ridge across the water a thin mist hangs like a band, and the surface ripples finely in a blue close to silver. The shaded grass is still cool, and sunlight touches thinly only the top edge of the bench's backrest.
Looking at a scene like this for a while lowers the shoulders a little. As the eyes stop fixing on one point and scatter along the ripples, the breath drawn in lengthens on its own. The strength in the palms loosens quietly as well.
The busier we are, the further ahead the mind has gone toward the next task. When the body is here while the thoughts alone have wandered off, and that goes on long enough, rest does not come even during time set aside for it.
How about sitting wherever you can sit right now and looking for about three minutes at something moving, whether outside a window or the water in a cup. There is no need to count or measure, just follow the grain of the shaking as it settles.
The same three minutes open up at a bus stop as well. In the cold air of late afternoon, there is a way to follow with your eyes the grain of the street tree branches swaying across the road, in place of the arrival times on the display board. While doing so, it would be good to check the tension in your jaw. Whether the back teeth are pressed together, or the upper and lower are slightly apart, noticing only that much and moving on is enough.
An empty bench looks as though it is waiting for someone, but in fact it is simply looking at the water.
