Those dreaded words when I was growing up...."Time to come in!" Especially when the days lingered longer, there was never a tiring of climbing trees, "losing myself" in wooded walks, or feeling the warming air swoosh by on the swingset my dad made with railroad ties and spooled cable. Coming in was the end of adventure for the day, and I hated slowing down and coming in to the house.
Now, as an adult and a yoga practitioner, I find myself needing to schedule "time to come in." Responsibilities often beckon, relationships need tending, and the busy-ness of the modern world distracts from what my body and mind long for..."time to come in." The more recent adventure is a time of carving out nurturing for my body, mind, and spirit to be still, listen, and just "be." I do still love good walks in the woods, and now welcome them just as I did as a child. But "coming in" is now a meditative walk, savoring a meal, or not being the first to release a hug. Inviting myself inside is now a gift to be treasured, time not lost, and the best adventure of all.
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