A finch sat on the chimney top this morning waving his song courageously loud. LOUD – as in the whole neighborhood could hear it! Perhaps if I sat on chimney tops I would also feel courageous? Or is it this, the song (the EXPLOSION of gratefulness for simply being alive) welcomes courage, welcomes joy and full-ness?
I think we keep getting this part mixed up. We continually wait to sing until we “feel” there is good reason. Until all the things are going right.
Singing first is much harder.
BUT, perhaps singing the song FIRST is the whole point?!
I walked into sunshine this morning and hung the porch carpet, heavy with raindrops on the old porch rail. Drips immediately clustered and fell by the hundreds, releasing the carpet from the prison of their weightiness.
I stood and watched, and wondered, “How can I do the same? How can I drape myself so the drops of days, and weeks, and years run out instead of collecting into heavy, soggy pools?”
After all, carpets (as well as lives) that are most used and loved are never the ones that continually collect and hold onto the wet.
It’s wild out here. Predictable and unpredictable in the same different minute.
I never know who or what will buzz or fly by – and the wind is his own world, teasing and disappearing on a whim.
The other morning I found a gold beetle. Completely gold!
This morning a fog grey spider jumped – super hero – an impossible distance and disappeared. Where?
The bumble bee, out of breath, lands beside me, big black body heaving, wispy wings quivering. He does the impossible flight every day.
Perhaps this is why nature feeds the deepest parts of us. The wild, longing parts. It soothes and pushes, whispers and calls, hides and flashes all silent and deafening at once, “The Impossible IS Possible Out Here!”
Why do you sing so freely little wren?
As if there are no worries.
If you never fear the rain or wind could it be you are right – the song is always the right choice for the living?
I once heard someone say, “Moments are all we have…” and I’ve been rolling it over and over in my mind since.
A moment, a space, a tiny box of time handed to me over, and over, and over, and over. A moment to glimpse beauty, or a moment to skip over for the next one.
When I LOOK at a moment, the one HERE right before my eyes, not the next one, or the one before… it is the only way I seem to be able to make time move slower and actually digest the life moments before me.
To touch the HERE is magic and I get it all over the finger that reached.
It gives – makes way – and re-envelops, opens wide & covers over.
HERE is what I have to hold, all I have to hold.
It pulls us, the safe & it pulls us, the WILD…
we’re a small part big and a BIG part child!
the rocky feel of FOLD,
the days that don’t go as TOLD.
The way life seems to spin and drop,
the ups and downs that pile on top…
of days and weeks, on minutes and hours…
I want all sunshine and pretty flowers!
Undone feels reckless – end over end –
and makes me reach, & weep, & bend.
I want ALL predictable and straight
but this I see is not life’s fate,
the magic of life is thriving WITHIN
the swirl of ups and downs and spins.
Facing undone moments WHEN they come,
trusting that when they spin through and are done
I’ll have treasure I lacked before –
before undone walked through my door
I will be wiser,
and stronger too…
There IS treasure HERE too.
Something moves from the eye to the soul when we look on purpose. The more I look for it, the more beauty I see.
The dead sea is dead because the water flows in, but never out. More and more is collected but it simply sits and stagnates. And, weirdly enough, the dead sea is even shrinking!
Collect. Collect. Collect. Keep. Shrink.
Obviously this doesn’t work well. To thrive there needs to be out-flow! Out-flow! 🙂
I’ve heard (*) the greatest life lessons are infinite patience and never-ending persistence.
In this era of short, quick and immediate, infinite patience and never-ending persistence feel both frustrating and refreshing. Long winded. Glacier like in movement. So. VERY. SLOW.
We often want to gulp at life, leaping over entire mountain ranges of experience to get results. But we must remember that slow, never-ending, persistent habits of movement not only carve mountains but shape entire landscapes.
Life moves one moment at a time.
*From This I Remember by Eleanor Roosevelt