Pausing. Wonder doesn’t wait for us to notice it. It doesn’t need an audiance to occur. It doesn’t ask if you are ready and comfortable now.
Wonder is happening around us all the time. It’s up to us to stop the whirlygig of our minds, of our pushing-striving and step off into the stillness and beauty of our lands.
It’s up to us to trust that if we stop there will be something there. Not to fear the emptiness and what rises within it. If you don’t look at waist-height (or any height) then, sweetheart, you won’t see the wonder.
How much do we miss?
Here Jules and I were collecting nasturtiums for salad and to go on my altar and adorn the bedroom and sitting room. Talking, picking, weeding, enjoying the sunshine and the blue-sky-day. Hungry for lunch but not wanting to leave the sun-lit, noon-bright, vibrant, garden. Mid day in August, that light. It energises everything, colours turned up to radiance. It made us living in full colour, dazzlingly present.
A pause in the picking. Capture the moment. Bring it out on grey days, in cold times. Remember there is wonder. To find it, pause and seek.
I just had a moment I could so easily have missed…a moment in the world ‘From Waist Height’.
Two collared doves took it in turns to get a morning drink from the puddles that form on the uncleaned roof of my outdoor shelter.
I could see the bottoms of their feet, the point where their beaks made contact with the surface of the shelter (for them the bottom of the puddle).
I could see the shadows cast by the rising sun but not their bodies. That is until they moved away from the puddle to a cleaner bit of roof.
I could make out the soft white bulging of their bellies.
If I had been standing they wouldn’t have been confident to come there at all. If I had cleaned the roof, as I constantly berated myself that I should have done all year, they would have seen me and taken fright.
If I had repaired the roof, another whip to flog myself with, there would have been no puddles, hence no doves drinking.
Most important of all for me is the thought that I actually allowed myself that moment in spite of aching bones, the cold, the feeling that making connections has become a thing of the past.
I allowed myself to go and sit in what used to be my favourite place to meditate.
Although I haven’t been there for a year or more….
And the garden has been ‘trashed’ by puppies. And I haven’t found the energy to clean and clear the yard. And I feel bad I haven’t pruned the things that need pruning, and and and and…
Yesterday for the first time in too long I allowed myself to sit there, close my eyes to the un-tackled tasks, listen to the birds ‘talk’ and breath. I allowed myself to follow that with a good day – a day when I did things, not driven on by will-power or an internal wagging finger, but given permission just to do what little things my hand reached for. Then I allowed myself to celebrate having done some things, no matter how small, towards creating a better feeling in my home. Small steps but a movement out of the mental paralysis I had been under.
So this morning I sat at the computer, because it was ‘too cold outside’. I warned myself not to sink into all the gloomy news which kills my energy everyday. I half read an article about having the will-power to make changes, one of those approaches that turns you into your own accusing headmistress, and then found you waiting in my in box.
Your article reminded me the way forward isn’t always about forcing yourself on. When I take that approach the rebellious me raises a swift two fingers and digs in further.
It isn’t about being competitive with others, I could never hope to rival the order and cleanliness of many people I know and for a range of reasons I don’t really want to; it isn’t about affording better equipment, a thing that could only be a achieved through all kinds of other activities I would be quite unable to take on just yet; it isn’t about WILLING anything at all….it’s about making a request of oneself and then allowing oneself to respond to that request.
It’s about noticing that many things have already been given and are just there waiting to be accepted and allowed into your life, given the credit and the value they deserve.
It was about allowing myself to breath deeply of the cold crisp air while the sun rose to a place where it could warm me; allowing myself to see all the things waiting for me to accept and value; and it was about being able to see the wonder in the feet and bellies of doves as they took their morning drink, accepting me because I wasn’t DOING anything, just allowing myself to breath.
Thank you for reminding me to give myself permission!
By Jules, Monmouth, Wales.
Re-published here with permission. Response to From Waist Height and Wondering lovingly shared. Share yours Facebook.com/SickChickToTrailBlazer.