What do you see? A “V,” a bold statement slapped across a blue canvas? Or the clasped hands of two companions striding confidently and securely across the the earth? I imagine a beautiful triad — two beings in relationship out of which a third entity emerges — the relationship itself. And I am grateful, then, that we humans are separate yet, with deliberate choice, can consciously create, honor and nurture relationship. And when we do, we surely stride like giants, hand in hand across the sky, heads tipping the clouds.
Left work: late. First stop: closed 5 minutes ago. Second stop: 10 minutes away but expected 10 minutes ago. Third stop: forced by a lumbering train in no particular hurry. Reminder: slow down, breathe, relax. Grateful: for the squeaking of wheels and clanging of couplings that lulled me into a more mindful place.
Grateful, tonight, for being in the right place at the right time to witness real people doing real deliveries at our new house — our kitchen and bath cabinets! I just happened to look out the front door as this truck was lumbering up the drive. Michael walked around the back of the truck, looked at us standing in the doorway, smiled a friendly smile, and said, “We have your cabinets!” YES! Grateful, too, for these delivery guys who, at 7 p.m., still had a delivery to make — 3 hours and 170 miles away — and a final hour’s drive before reaching home. Thanks, guys!
Today may have been a day of working around the new house installing gutter extensions, but I’m grateful for a little down time to sit on the gravel pile — unleashing my long-distant 10-year-old self to sift through stones. I come away with a pocket full of unusual ones, three fossils, and a little chagrin at how easy it is to look at something — in this case, a load of gravel — but see only a a swath of similarities. In reality, that pile of nondescript gray gravel houses an amazing universe of variety — shapes, colors, sizes, types of rocks — even fossils and a curious Granddaddy Long legs. Grateful for the lesson in mindfulness.
Grateful tonight for a trifecta of things. First, an evening of old-fashioned bingo with Charlie and our friend Inger (and it was her birthday, too!). Second, winning the very first game of the evening and scoring the awesome Pampered Chef Deep Dish Baker (which I was planning to buy this month anyway). Third, and perhaps best of all, knowing the money we paid for the tickets, the 50/50 drawing, and the concessions all went to benefit the local Deputy Sheriff’s Bikes for Tykes at Christmas. Even without the prize, it was a win-win all the way. Awesome.
So I’m walking through the cold drizzle to our second office building a block away, when I step up onto the curb. There beneath my feet is a silver paper clip obviously adrift outside its normal habitat. “Hmmm,” I think. “What’s up with this paper clip on the curb that caught my eye on this rainy day?”
My first thought is that somewhere something’s spiraling wildly out of control — logical, given a paper clip’s main function: to corral papers. A few steps later and I self-correct. That homeless clip could also mean that somewhere something’s finally getting the chance to bloom and transform.
I guess it really does depend on your perspective. It makes me wonder what kind of roles I assign to my paper clips, or if I even HAVE paper clips I carry around in life. I’m partial to clip-free living, but there’s value in both. What about you?
Grateful for a rainy day that caused my eyes to watch the ground as I walked, which allowed me to spy a sad little paper clip on the curb, which was such an odd place that it flirted with my awareness, which caused me to ruminate on paper clip roles, which gave me a fresh perspective on life and the living of it.
(And, yes, I turned around and retraced my steps to take a photo of the poor thing.)