The rain ceased. Moisture still hangs in the cool November air. The leaves turn – green to orange, red, and violet. I’m trying to take notice…see it like a child.
Is life what you make of it? Does my state of mind have more to do with engaging the moment than money or the right job or (fill in the blank)? If I quiet my soul can I hear the maples, elms, and oaks sing of water from heaven? Or see their colors change? Can I connect with the creation around me and share its joy, its resignation to and even appreciation of being taking care of?
Is life only as complicated as we make it? If we take our feet off the accelerator, what will happen? I’m not talking about reducing speed enough to get around the sharp life curve just down the road. What if we do take our foot off the accelerator…permanently, or at least most of the time?
The fifty-something woman rides by on her once-blue Schwin, reddish-grey hair pressed back under a yellow bandana. She smiles, light dances in her eyes. This very moment enlivens and yet settles her being - a gently sprinkled myrrh of goodness, anointing her with love. I know she sees it…more than that she feels it, smells it…embraces.
The leaves are turning.
It'll never get old.
1 week ago