Grateful for the view from the window near my desk. Every time I swing in to work, I marvel at the sky and the quality of light as it illuminates the shore, especially that red building that simply pops and glows. It’s such a great way to start the day.
Our local McDonald’s is engulfed in renovation; there are trucks and porta potties, workers in neon, scaffolding soaring high toward the roof, plastic and, yes, a sign that says, “Drive Through Open.” So we drove through, dodging workers and barricades. No menu in the drivethrough, just a lonely speaker attached to a cord that wound its way back inside the building. The window? Still there, but an employee dodging flakes of drywall as workers sanded above ferried our money to the window. The drink delivery? The same, except an employee carefully covered and brought our order from the window to our car. I’m struck by the dedication of these employees and this location to serving its clientele. Grateful for the small town where we will move in a month or two. I like their attitude.
So I head into work this morning. The sky’s a beautiful blue with white puffy clouds, the air crisp with the coolness of a September morning. In the elevator are co-workers from various offices; I know none of them well. The prevailing conversation? How crappy it is to start another gloomy week at work. I wonder briefly if it’s because the elevator has no window to the beautiful day outside, but realize it’s due to the attitude each of us walks in with and carries throughout the day. I know that I can carry that blue sky attitude all day long or allow the gloomy windowless elevator attitude to prevail. Grateful — I am so grateful — for this knowledge of choice, because it allows me to make of my day a heaven, not a hell.
Isn’t it interesting how so many treasures look like, well, rocks. Plain things. Nondescript products of Mother Earth that we kick with our toes as we wander down an alley or skim across a pond with a practiced toss. You hold in your hand something special that, when polished or cracked open, reveals amazing treasures, like these crystals. I’m reminded of how each of us is a geode, of sorts. Inside, when we dare to crack open and reveal ourselves, we find amazing and valuable treasures not even hinted at by our rough exteriors. I’m grateful when I crack my hard shell, and grateful when others crack their shells to reveal the real person inside.
From the left is a citrine crystal point (hexagonal), a clear quartz crystal with occlusions (hexagonal), and a candle quartz crystal (hexagonal), so named because it’s reminiscent of the melted wax along the sides of a candle.
In New York City’s Battery Park stands a tortured symbol of hope and resilience. “The Sphere” stood for some 30 years in the plaza between the twin World Trade Center towers in Manhattan. Artist Fritz Koenig created it as a symbol of world peace. On September 11, 2001, it was severely damaged by the ravaged towers and the debris from the airliners that, as an act of terrorism, were deliberately crashed into the buildings.
Yet that act could not destroy this resilient spirit of peace; it was resurrected, although not restored, its damages bared for all to see.
Tonight, on the eve of the 13th anniversary of that terrible moment in history, I’m strangely comforted by the sight of that tortured symbol in my photo files. Who and what we are is formed by how we face the world and by how we live beyond what hand the world deals to us.
Here, there is surely hope, captured and held aloft by twisted metal that simply would not be destroyed. That is an awesome memorial.
Grateful for resilience, tonight. Yes, may we never forget, but, oh, may we always work for peace.