While wandering, I look up to enjoy the warmth of the August sun and the beauty of a cloud-studded blue sky. The tree under which I find myself is loaded with black fruit — it’s a black cherry, or a wild cherry, I think. I hear the chirps of at least three species of bird, the rustle of what must be a squirrel. It’s good, I think, that this smorgasbord is free for these creatures. There’s something perfectly right about nature nurturing nature. I’m grateful for the sight of blue sky through limbs loaded with sustenance for the ones who are sitting patiently, or not so patiently, for me to continue my journey so they may feast. It’s a good day.
Hidden amid the leaves of the tree, a web. Invisible from outside the tree, invisible without dew to adorn it. To the Native American, Grandmother Spider brought magic and creativity to the People, and taught them to weave their own destinies. I’m grateful to have encountered this bejeweled web today, mostly for its message to trust subtle perceptions and the activity and events that occur beneath the surface. Spiders don’t get caught in their own webs. Only the threads they weave around the circumference are sticky; the spokes are not. What a marvelous message to trust what moves directly from the center, from our authentic selves.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand and a Heaven in a Wild Flower … An early morning round of golf with dew still on the grass, the coolness of a summer breeze wafting about, and a lazy sun slowly burning its way through the haze combined to remind Charlie and me how small we really are in the bigger scheme of life. Grateful for moments of clarity captured in such places as, yes, the head of a golf club.
Who knew building a house would uncover interesting things? Like this … this thingie. It’s embedded in a fairly porous or at least well worn rock (of which it is now part). Our friend Jane found it in the gravel spread around on the garage floor, so it may or may not be from our neck of the woods. I’m grateful, obviously, for fascinating side journeys. They remind me that, even though the primary purpose or goal is one thing (like building a house), there is much to see and learn along the way (like, what kind of thingie is it?). In fact, I’ll toss that question out: anyone know?
Amid the noise and music and laughter and somewhat rhythmical ongoing announcements of the reverse drawing (we didn’t win), we decide to call it a day. I gather my stuff and glance toward the river and the setting sun. It’s awesome. It’s a peace offering, I think, from nature itself — a break from forecast thunderstorms just for this event. There’s a surprising peace in sunsets, and never so much as at this moment, where so many diverse people have come together for a purpose larger than themselves. Tomorrow there will be a sunrise that holds far more promise for this organization than ever before. Grateful for the opportunity to help make a difference.