Around 7:15 this morning Klaus and I went outside to feed everyone breakfast and to bear witness to daybreak. The inky black sky and diamond moon an hour earlier had whispered promises of an exceptional display, and we were not disappointed.
The eastern sky cracked open and gushed Technicolor all over the farm. All over the prairie grasses and wildflowers, the pine trees and blackjacks and zinnias and eerily decaying summer vines. Something I’ll never capture in a snapshot. That molten energy rushed through the treetops, scattered leaves both downhill and up, and transformed the pond into a pink and orange looking glass. The already dazzling crazy quilt of autumn leaves was for several moments downright metallic. Glittered. And still, the sun was just rising, barely.
Almost forty five minutes later, as I sat outside scribbling this in my notebook, broad gashes of light were streaming across the treetops and aiming west, downhill, and straight through me. It was all bold and direct, no longer diffused.
Everyone around here seems to agree that this year’s autumn transformation has been a special one. We should probably thank the lush, mild summer and gentle cool down for that. The forests and gardens have been changing daily, hourly sometimes, like a twisting handheld kaleidoscope where each leaf is a chunk of tinted glass reflecting against so many connecting mirrors.
I want my eyes and my heart to be mirrors for all of it. I want to always remember how beautiful Oklahoma was in October of 2018.
One day soon we will wake up for our usual routines and see that the trees are bare and the ground is frozen. On that day we’ll find the beauty of course, but it will be different. For now, for today, we will soak up the color and thrumming life and all of this glorious transformation energy. And we’ll count it all joy because it’s so easy. It’s so available to us.
Last night four friends joined us at the farm for a cozy dinner and to finally discuss The Book of Joy. It was a small, organic mix of deeply thinking, tender, feeling people who had either already enjoyed the book or who were interested in it based on piecemeal reviews I had been posting on Facebook for months.
The Book of Joy is just so nourishing, you guys. I highly recommend this slim, straightforward work to people of every religion, every background, every station in life. And I strongly suggest you buy a copy to keep forever; because it seems to be the kind of book that you might read (or at least skim and review) at different times in life and each time glean new wisdom.
Our intimate discussion last night was everything my soul needed. I felt absolute Love in the midst of us all, and my brain kept sparking and coming to life every time someone shared their insights. The fact that my husband was there for it all and a strong part of the dialogue is a brand new joy for me.
I have tried to make people aware that the ultimate source of happiness is simply a healthy body and a warm heart. ~Dalai Lama
Soon, in addition to so much great material from the book, I want us to explore Ubuntu, the African expression for humanity. “We become persons through other people.” It’s the notion that connectedness is part of our human design, our nature. The idea that we function best when we find other people and live in actual community. Especially as the holiday season opens wide, I would love to really internalize this concept.
Togetherness, intimacy, connection, community.
Daybreak for our hearts and minds and bodies and spirits. Eye candy and nourishment, both. Improving our perspectives and staying aware and very very present. Yes to all of it.
I am beyond excited to continue this dialogue with my husband and our friends and their loved ones, and also with my sister Angela and maybe our adult children, as well as with our friend Kiran, who is Hindu. The diversity of our favorite humans is as mesmerizing as Oklahoma’s autumn display right now.
“The way you see the world,
the meaning you give to what you witness,
changes the way you feel.”