Peace with the Senses

    

    We've essentially spent the last quarter of the year moving. From packing up our old life in Colorado and consolidating all of our stuff into two compact cars to our summer sublet was one big transition. Then we moved to our new house and spent all the time unpacking and making small repairs. It's been exciting; it's been an adventure; it's been a lot. Throw in a very disoriented toddler with early wake-ups and two tired parents, and some days have felt long. 

    This fall I enrolled in an online Montessori course called Child of the Redwoods to help me learn more about practicing Montessori at home (plus the nerdy educator in me has always been curious). Recently, we studied sensorial learning, which is basically creating opportunities for the child to isolate each sense and articulate and notice differences in sensations. For example, with a sense of sight you can determine shortest to tallest, or lightest to darkest. You can close your eyes and talk with your child about sounds you hear in the environment. You can go on a walk in your neighborhood on a scavenger hunt for rough and smooth textures to engage in the sense of touch. You can uncap the vanilla and cinnamon while making smoothies and describe what everything smells like. 

    As an adult, it's been so interesting to think about sensorial learning and the opportunities to engage with young children in learning about and through different senses. It's also been a way to practice being more mindful and present in what has been a full and at times overwhelming season of moving twice this summer. Some recent sensory impressions grounding me this season are as follows:

Seeing the sunset rise around 6:30 and going on early morning walks shortly after, an abundance of palm trees, succulents, and a variety of purple fuzzy plants, the white spray of the ocean, and the doves roosting on the power lines behind our house. 

Hearing the screeching sound of a murder of crows (what a term) and the loud caws of parrots at the park and in the backyard. The sound of the blender making all the smoothies and pesto. Endless loops of toddler giggles and questions and singing music class songs. The new Head and the Heart album on repeat and the whirs of fans that don't turn off. 

Feeling sand and grass beneath my feet and chalk between my fingers, the chopping sensation of the knife meeting the cutting board as I prepare dinner, juice running down my chin from peaches and plums, Avi's hand in mine as she hears a car near, the cool wood against the soles of my feet, and the wind that blows my hair back each evening. 

Tasting stone fruit all the time and lots of ice cream, chicken with salsa verde, zucchini, fish tacos.

Smelling basil, oregano, and thyme from the garden, the saltiness of the ocean, and the scents of muffins from the bakery across the street from the park. 

I recently came across this poem: 

"Dear God,

Help me to find peace in the simple things.

In the cool breeze against my skin,

In a red berry growing surprising at the top of a tall vine--

In the gentle purring of a cat--

In the setting of the sun

In the miraculous cloud formations--

Help me to feel you as I look and work and breathe and love and sleep. 

Amen."

-Irma Ross

I'm not very traditionally religious but I read this poem, and it really spoke to me.  Does anyone else have specific sensations grounding them lately, or go through phases where they are more alert to senses?