Located less than a half mile from our door, I’ve come to think of this bench as my serenity bench. A peaceful location to lift lids and check the progress on various pots simmering on the back burner of my mind.
In front, the Boise River moves languidly, dotted every now and again with Canadian geese and mallard ducks. Behind, I hear the chick-chick sound of birds and squirrels rustling for food; nature’s addition to the hushed steps of walkers on the Greenbelt — a peaceful serenade.
This serenity bench is my go-to place for plunging into some of the deeper pools of thought, and letting go of perceived control — allowing myself to be breathed by that which is greater than I.
Where is your “serenity bench?”