Something Afoot Just Beyond Our Sight

This morning, Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle and I were out for our normal morning walk, but somehow it didn’t feel like a normal morning. Rather than wander about and explore as she usually does, she stayed close, stopping often to peer out into the woods as if sensing that something, or someone, was afoot, just beyond our sight.

Partway down the road I stopped and turned around, the sky above the hills behind our home ablaze with color. Gold, pink, orange, and crimson. Reaching for my phone to capture the image, probably for use in a blog, I was disappointed to realize that I had left it at home.

In that moment it was as if whatever it was, and it was something, that was afoot in the woods and just beyond our sight, invited us to stop observing the moment and actually be in the moment.

Time stopped. The mental chatter silenced, and the sounds of cars on the road faded away. It was just a girl and her dog on the road. Gracie quietly sat down and together we weren’t watching life, we were life. The calls of two ravens caused us both to turn around just in time to see them emerge from the pines, leisurely making their way to the grove of cottonwood trees just beyond the fence. Landing on the highest branch they talked to one another as ravens do, taking turns, not talking over one another as humans often do. Just beyond the cottonwoods the morning sun was hitting the flanks of Mt. Adams, the light beating back the darkness, as given time, the light will always do.

The ravens flew off, still deep in conversation. Gracie and I watched until they disappeared from sight beyond the pine trees. Turning to head back to the house, the sky that had just minutes before been bright with color was now just so many shades of gray.

The moment was over.

Walking back to the house I wondered how often whatever it was, and it was something, that was afoot in the woods and just beyond our sight, is beckoning us to stop observing the moment and actually be in the moment. To stop watching life and be life. My hunch is, whatever it is, and it is something, is there all the time.

(NO PHOTO FOR OBVIOUS REASONS)

Autumn's Invitation

Fall is my favorite time of the year. I love the quality of the light, the chill in the air, and the gradual shortening of the days. It is also a gentle reminder that we are not here forever. That our time on earth is limited, and that it is up to us to decide what we will sow in the service of what we hope to harvest.

While autumn doesn't officially begin until September 23rd, it feels like summer is over. School is back in session, summer vacations are a memory, and there are four months left before a new year begins. It seems to be a time of invitation to bring a little more structure to our days, and to consider what we hope to create and bring to life in what remains of the year. To reflect once again on what matters, and channel our energies in that direction.

As Annie Dillard says, How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. As summer once again gives way to autumn, let’s take time to consider how we want to spend our days.

Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

Répondez S'il Vous Plaît

One of my pet peeves is people’s reluctance to RSVP to an invitation. It is like they are waiting to see if something better shows up before committing themselves. I should know because I’ve done that myself, but having thrown some pretty great shindigs in my day, I know firsthand that it’s hard to plan a good party when you don’t know who is going to show up.

Every morning arrives with a new invitation to bring who we are and what we have to offer to life’s party. Some times it’s harder than others to commit to the day at hand, and there are times when the best choice is to bow out and catch our breath. But every morning, the invitation is there, waiting for our response s'il vous plaît.

With or without us, the party is being planned. Are we in? Or out?

Photo by samaraagenstvo feeria from Pexels