Yesterday afternoon I stumbled into the weirdest funky mood. It lasted maybe 90 seconds and had the effect of a low, dark cloud crawling meanly across an otherwise brilliant sky. It was so distinct and forceful that it literally stopped me in my tracks. I was walking downhill toward the vegetable garden and paused, looked around like maybe I heard something behind me? Klaus stopped too and crooked his head to wait for my next step. His face and the green lawn and a few other beautiful things reminded me that I was home. That the moment was good and the context was magical.
I’m grateful for awareness when my perspective is shifted negatively and for the power to bring it back to center. It’s often just a small exercise of noticing physical beauty, then maybe indulging in the quiet, inner messages some of them bring:
Fallen tree branches that resemble antlers. I cannot resist collecting them and inserting them into every flower pot, and it gets me thinking of the hundreds of patterns in nature, in the universal patterns of the human experience, from one generation to the next.
A stout gray and white horse who loves to scratch the hollow of his chin against every T-post on the farm. Oh Dusty, I love you.
That weird but pleasant summertime fragrance combination of latex paint, sweet clover, and manure, all warmed by the sun and stirred by the breeze. It’s just nice.
Watching our German Shepherd (I can no longer in good conscience call him a puppy) and our llama play together like little boys. Remembering the girls when they were little and prone to indulging in “Mud Monster” afternoons. Dreaming of their futures. Watching the dog and llama again, best friends on the muddy edge of the pond.
The pond is still so high! Exceeding its banks, our own small lake, all these weeks after the heavy rain. Grace is abundant. We are fattened by it.
Walking around the bee hives, seeing the Honeymakers float and parade near their respective porches. Each colony is so unique, and all three of them are so entrancing. This is an endless metaphor.
Raking up great, thick, heavy clods of crabgrass, recently tilled, and shaking loose the dirt. Looking up just enough to visualize the food that will soon be growing here.
Checking for the day’s newly laid eggs, having to gently lift each hen to find them. Feeling the warm, sticky film on eggs that stay in the nests, waiting to hatch. Learning to trust the life cycle without counting chicks too early.
The lingering smell of marigold blossoms and arugula, the rough texture of kale, the jewel toned petunias and geraniums near the kitchen door. Oh man I had the best Grandpa…xoxo
Neatly pruned trees that had once been a chaotic black jack grove. Peace and strength that have brought some order to a fearful heart. Order and more beauty.
Frozen things are long thawed, mountains are moving, fear is losing once again to Love.
“Most people think it takes a long time to change. It doesn’t. Change is immediate! Instantaneous! It may take a long time to decide to change…but change happens in a heartbeat!”
~Andy Andrews in The Noticer