This epiphany came unexpectedly as I was sitting in my recliner. Quinn, our mini-Dachshund, was cuddled in my lap snoozing away . . . enjoying the warmth of my lap and the sun shining through the picture window. She was basking in the warmth of it all. Basking . . . to lie exposed to warmth and light for relaxation and pleasure. She looked so comfortable, so peaceful, so oblivious to the outside world . . . some sort of blissful nirvana. She looked asleep. In that moment of recognition, I realized that I was jealous. Jealous of my canine’s ability to bask.
Of course, the envy was ridiculous on my part. Ever since retiring it has been difficult to let loose a lifetime habit based on a schedule of labor. A month into retirement I find it difficult to relax, let loose, and just be in the moment. I no longer have a schedule dictating my waking moments. I no longer must be anywhere. I am no longer responsible for people or projects. I am not obligated. I realize that but it is hard to let go of hard-wired habits. Freedom was there. I can do whatever I want within the boundaries set by my spouse. So, pretty much, I was free. Free to even bask if I want.
The epiphany didn’t end with a realization of my envy . . . no, it ended with an ironic awareness that lying back in my recliner, sun coming through the window warmly, caressing my body . . . I was basking! In fact, I have been basking for a week or two now. Lying back, pup in lap, relishing the sun’s warmth. For a couple of weeks now the sun’s light has been shining through and perfectly striking my chair bathing it in soothing warmth. And I have been basking.
Basking . . . it is wonderful! Lying there in the sunshine, soaking in the warmth, and relaxed. I’d roll over on my back, but I’m already there. I’d pull my shirt up to expose my belly, but there would be those who oppose . . . in particular, my wife . . . that’s going too far. It would be nice though if someone would rub my belly like I rub my dogs’. Ain’t going to happen. So, I bask. What I have noticed from observing my dogs is that a good bask results in a state of sleep.
Sleeping . . . the ultimate state of basking. It is true. The art of basking provides moments of blissful sleep when done right. I saw it with my dogs and experienced it for myself. Can’t complain about it because it is wonderful to catch a few Zs in the warmth of sunshine. The pups know it and I now know it.
Unfortunately, the bliss of basking is short-lived—at least for me. Apparently in a recliner I am both a restless and noisy napper. I guess I’m not as relaxed as I think I am. My legs twitch and wiggle. I snore. I always have whenever I am sleeping on my back. It really doesn’t bother me. Quinn, our mini-Dachshund, on the other hand, finds this annoying. She lifts her head, stares at me with a look that says, “What the hell!” Kind of messes up her basking. Mine, too. Now I am self-conscious. Embarrassed. For me, the basking is done . . . pups come first.
But I’ll take it. Though short in duration it is worth the self-conscious embarrassment brought on by a ten-pound wiener dog. Basking is wonderful and I should have been practicing it my whole life. Everyone should bask. Everyone should lay, exposed to the warmth and light of the sun. It is relaxing. It is pleasurable. Comforting. Peaceful. Calming. A wonderful respite from the craziness of the world we live in.
In the future, as we transition through the seasons, do not be alarmed if I move my basking around from the recliner in the living room to the rocker on the deck to the laying in the backyard grass . . . tummy exposed. Waiting. Waiting for someone to come and rub my tummy. Nirvana at its best. It works for my pups . . . so why not me?
