(Note: You can listen to me read this post by clicking the play icon at the top)
It’s the rest of the week and, in the face of the usual interruptions and obstacles of every day life, I’m taking a page from the playbook of this gull I encountered a few weeks ago while taking a morning walk on the South Carolina coast.
Mr. Gull (as you’ll see in the short video below) is diligently plucking tasty breakfast morsels from the sand, working his way down the beach—until he notes that I am coming at him from the opposite direction.
Mr. Gull does not freak out or panic. He does not up and fly away. He simply keeps picking away at his breakfast while taking a detour to avoid a possible unpleasant encounter with the human.
This deviation from the straight line down the beach (where, no doubt, the pickings are more abundant) does not seem to trouble him and I’m a bit enamored by his nonchalant air. He’s clearly had some experience keeping calm and carrying on with breakfast even as he remains alert.
Mr. Gull’s arc around me is ample enough to keep him safe, yet reigned in enough that he passes through my shadow. There’s a slight pause as he steps into the sunshine and curves back towards the sea, legs scissoring back and forth rapidly.
But never loses his cool.
Here’s to some cool, calm, and containment—less rush and more rest.
May your rest be sweet,
Alicia
Nonchalant… Cool, unfazed, indifferent, unconcerned, unexcited. The question is why are we not more often that way?
I would assume that the gull is untroubled, and either has confidence in his ability to fly away or he can just trust that he will be OK. I am able to remain unfazed and unconcerned when I keep my eyes on God, because I know I can trust him to do what is best for me. It is when I look away or look to my own self to try to solve certain problems that I lose my nonchalant attitude or I lose my trust and peace.