I can’t believe it is 2017. Another year gone and Time continues to move on, way too fast to grasp. Try as we might, we will never slow it down. All we can do is pause in the midst of this chaotic mess we call Life, and experience the moments as they come and go.
Well, I have no idea how to start this post, but I find myself with a little injury-induced downtime and a perfect opportunity for catching up. But I must admit that I’m not really in the mood. My mind is in a cloud of melancholy and I don’t quite know what to say. Seeking solace in my digital memories, as I so often do, I remembered starting this post about our snowshoe outing a few weeks back. A few weeks…or six or seven…whatever. Oh, how I would love to find that secret hiding place, that mysterious abyss where all this missing Time gets tucked away! Anyway, my hubby is out for a snowshoe adventure today while I am stuck at home, pitifully longing for some snow play of my own. And wistfully yearning for a view.
If I could have my way, I would gladly spend my days wistfully watching the clouds. If I were allowed, I would simply sit in that hypnotic trance watching storm clouds dance in this great expanse of desert sky. I am constantly amazed. Hypnotized, mesmerized, drawn into that continuous cycle of formation and destruction. It is a meditation in motion, calming my emotions and exciting them all at the same time.
2016. Imagine that. Another year come and gone, another journey around the sun, another day has slipped away and still so many aspirations sit idly unaccomplished. Not being an especially goal-oriented person, I learned long ago that a list of New Year’s resolutions is no solution for my lack of productivity. And while I firmly believe in the power of intention, I have also come to understand that some sort of purposeful action is required to bring those intentions to fruition. So, here I sit, stuck somewhere between the power of believing and the actuality of achieving. It has been a busy year, a very full year, a time of stretching the cozy confines of my comfort zone and breaking out of my box, so-to-speak. Change is good, but it can also be intimidating. It is both exciting and terrifying at the same time. Change is often required for growth and with that comes growing pains. It has been a year of significant change for me and though I am definitely experiencing those growing pains, some things remain ever the same…like the beauty in the adventure.
I know I have said this many times before, but sometimes it is the simplest things in life that bring the greatest sense of peace and satisfaction. It is not always the roughest road, the epic journey or the grandest of discoveries that ignite and excite your sense of adventure. Sometimes it is just a simple exploration, a humble revelation or a smooth and easy trail that lead you a place of contentment and gratitude.
I have never been one to express strong political views or overtly display my patriotic colors, but there is this song that I really love and I always find it especially poignant on Independence Day. You know that Woody Guthrie tune…
This land is your land, this land is my landFrom California to the New York island;From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters:This land was made for you and me.
As preparations for Thanksgiving day are underway, any proper foodie would thoughtfully present you with some sort of lovely and healthy dish with which to nourish your body and please the palate of your holiday guests. Although I am forever grateful for nature’s beautiful bounty and the nourishment it provides, I must admit that during this time of giving thanks, my mind tends to wander from the table, shying away from the accepted act of overindulgence as an expression of joyful gratitude. In this season of giving thanks, my heart always heads for the hills where Mama Nature never fails to heighten my awareness of the abundance of beauty in my life. So, in keeping with tradition, my hubby and I sought some nature time this past weekend and found ourselves pondering our plenitude as we wandered with Winnedumah.
Have you ever had one of those moments, so profoundly beautiful you find it difficult to convey? My husband and I experienced such a moment last weekend. I know what you’re thinking. Oh great, here she goes, waxing her profundities again. But quite frankly, I am having trouble attaching words to my profoundly beautiful moment, except to say that it was magical. And though I am not a fan of fairy tales, I do believe in magic.
Yes, I know. The summer solstice has come and gone…old news, weeks ago, long since moved on. That’s the way it is with me…a little late, after the fact, better late than never. It has taken several years for me to come to terms with that, to accept it and embrace it, but I am at peace now with my belated and not-so-punctual ways. And now that Summer is in full-fiery-force, I am revisiting a few precious moments of celebration as we welcomed this new season with two of my favorite things: a sunset and a starry sky. From a tent, by a lake, with a waterfall, no less.
I have a favorite book. We all do, I’m sure. Mine is called The Little Prince by Antione De Saint Exupery, you probably know it. I never tire of the wisdom contained in that one little story. You know, the kinds of insights we grown-ups collect from those precious little people in our lives.
“Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.”
…that kind of stuff. The kind of stuff that gives you cause to pause and consider the little things in life, that really, when you think about it, are not that small after all.