As I sat on the deck this morning, I watched what the Phoebes were doing. This brought me back to what I was doing. I was sitting. I came back to my senses; the weight of my body on the deck, the breeze on my skin, the color of the trees, my breath. Then I heard the high squeak of the baby Phoebes, as their parents returned to the nest with food.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Today I am wondering what I can do to be of service. A family of Phoebes lives on the East side of the cabin. I sit and watch them going to the nest to feed their young over and over again, stopping only to look at me. They remind me of the importance of giving without concern for myself. They serve a larger purpose than themselves. Their work is in service of all Phoebes. Their personal needs are secondary to the survival of their species. They remind me how I can become distracted by my individual needs and forget about those around. We together are more than each of us alone. Today I will work in service of Us.
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
For me the hardest part about being here and now, is remembering not to get seduced by distractions. Could'a, Should'a, Would'a, the future, the past, and my imagination are the biggest culprits. Catching myself in any of these territories is the first step. Once I remember to catch myself, I am back.
Monday, May 22, 2017
Sunday, May 21, 2017
This morning I woke up with a song.
Until those clouds disappear
I will be waiting for you
The song is about a specific kind of patience. The kind that has no agenda. The kind that knows that I have to go through what I have go to through to get where I need to be. And the kind that does not dictate that place. Today I am reminded of the importance of this kind of patience.
Saturday, May 20, 2017
This morning the crescent moon will make its journey through blue sky. This reminds me that the cycles of day and night represent nothing more than my position in relation to something far greater.
I am reminded that the possibilities for my life exist in this infinite frame, unbound by my terrestrial perspective.
Friday, May 19, 2017
This morning I woke to a cacophony of Birdsong. I listened, and realized that there were moments of silence. That brought me to the time I spend outside at night. Even on a cloudy moonless night, there is light. I can't see it right away. I have to wait; Wait for my eyes to adjust. They have to make the transition from what was, the inside of a well lit room, to what is, the outside. Slowly, my eyes begin to recognize the light. The light that was there all the time.
This reminds me that in times of personal darkness or when the din of noise can seem overwhelming, there is always silence, there is always light. I just have to take the time to slow down, breath, and notice.