During the holidays, our family spent a few quiet days with some friends visiting the small town of Bustamante, located about two hours south of the Mexican border.  Nestled up against eastern edge of the majestic Sierra Madre mountain range, it's a humble-looking place at first glance.  It has over five thousand residents, but just one small hotel, two modest restaurants, and not a single bar, supermarket, souvenir shop, or museum in sight.  No nightlife whatsoever.  No colonial mansions or picturesque cobblestone streets, no major historical monuments.  There is a beautiful cave a few miles out of town, but it's closed to the public for the foreseeable future while a new road and visitor center are being built.  Meanwhile, the primary industry in town seems to be growing and processing nuts from the vast pecan orchards irrigated by the abundant spring waters flowing out of the nearby mountains.
 
In short, Bustamante is a wonderful place to take a low-cost vacation.  To unwind and watch life unfold at a pace entirely different from the hectic lifestyle we tend to lead at home.  Everyone in our group enjoyed walking through the countryside and lounging alongside the crystal clear springs.  And we all loved munching the fresh, sweet regional pastries available at the small bakeries on every corner.  But my personal favorite activity was sitting alone on a park bench in the main plaza early each morning, watching the town come to life.  The sight of the streetsweepers cleaning the area was particularly mesmerizing, each swishing his broom slowly, quietly and methodically, seemingly in no hurry whatsoever, and yet the work got done quickly and well.  Watching them, I felt a deep longing to reconnect with that rhythm in my own life:  to be that effective and still move with that same measure of timelessness.
 
Now that I'm back at home, I choose to use that tranquil soundscape of those brooms as the metronome for my life in the year ahead. To let that vivid memory anchor my intention to relieve my need to "get finished" with my daily To Do lists.  To remember that in the fullness of Spirit, everything is connected and there is no Finish Line.
 
And yes, the multiple meetings, e-mails, deadlines and phone calls have already kicked in just a few days later.  And yes, my metropolitan surroundings in San Anto are substantially different from that of sleepy Bustamante.  But, I don't think it's a question of one or the other- busy or not busy, urban or rural, important or unimportant -- because those are artificial divisions.  The real question is:  am I willing to surrender my self-imposed sense of urgency and reconnect with the free flow of Spirit located at the heart of whatever I happen to be doing at the moment?  I don't claim to know how, much less be able to do so all the time.  But for the foreseeable future, that's my question, and I'm sticking to it.
 
With blessings and best wishes for your New Year,