There are plenty of places Scooby could be when I finally sit down at the end of the day.

Apparently, none of them are as good as my lap.

It doesn’t seem to matter whether I’m trying to drink a cup of coffee, answer a message, watch TV, read something, or simply have five minutes where nobody needs anything from me. If I’m sitting down, Scooby seems to think that’s his invitation.

And honestly, maybe he knows something I don’t.

I spend a lot of my life thinking about what needs to happen next.

There are things to do at work, things to take care of at home, horses that need attention, projects I’ve started, projects I want to start, people I need to get back to, and that never-ending list of little things that somehow follows me everywhere.

Even when I stop moving, my mind doesn’t always get the message.

Scooby doesn’t have that problem.

He isn’t worried about tomorrow. He isn’t replaying something that happened yesterday. He isn’t mentally making a list of everything he should have accomplished today.

He’s just happy that I’m sitting still long enough for him to climb into his favorite spot.

And once he’s there, he settles in like he has absolutely nowhere else he needs to be.

I think I could learn something from that.

I’ve been trying to be more intentional lately about my time and about what I’m allowing to fill it. I’ve let some things go. I’ve tried to stop saying yes simply because I can do something. And I’m learning that making room in your life is only part of it.

You also have to learn how to enjoy the room you made.

That’s harder than it sounds.

We’re so accustomed to being busy that an open evening can feel like something we’re supposed to fill. A quiet weekend can suddenly become an opportunity to tackle six projects. Sitting on the couch can somehow come with guilt because surely there’s laundry, cleaning, yardwork, paperwork, or something else that would be more productive.

Scooby couldn’t care less about any of that.

His priorities are pretty simple.

Find me.

Climb into my lap.

Get comfortable.

Stay there as long as possible.

Maybe there’s something to be said for a life that’s a little less complicated.

The older I get, the more I’m realizing that the life I want isn’t necessarily one packed full of big adventures and accomplishments. Of course I still want adventures. I still have things I want to do, places I want to go, things I want to create and probably more projects than good sense.

But I also want the quiet parts.

I want evenings at home. Time with the horses. Dirt under my fingernails. Good conversations with friends. A little space to breathe. And a little dog curled up in my lap who reminds me, without even trying, that I don’t always have to be doing something.

Sometimes it’s enough to just be where you are.

So maybe one of these days I’ll finally master the lesson Scooby seems to have figured out already:

When you find a good place to be, you don’t always have to be in a hurry to leave it.