I wrote this one on Monday, when I had a little time to appreciate the day.
It's a good morning. Contemplative. The kind of morning when your thoughts are clear (if a little groggy) and you settle into a nice Zen place of accepting who and where you are.
You wouldn't think you'd find much Zen on the morning of your first dentist's appointment in literally years. But my appointment isn't until 10:00 and I had to have my son to school by 8:00-ish, so I planned to use this gap to write. Of course, my "plan" was primarily to work on my fiction story. But after dropping off my son and driving halfway across town, my thoughts wandered (as always) and I felt a blog coming on.
I thought about a friend of mine to whom I had loaned a relatively decent chunk of cash about a year ago when she was further down on her luck (and health) than anyone should ever be and was in danger of losing her lights. Now, I say loan, but I wasn't married to that money and let it go mentally when I let it go physically. I could have gone my whole life without giving those dollars another thought. But then, a couple of days ago, there in my mailbox was an envelope… with a thank you card… and a check… a year after the fact. But she never forgot it. I have such amazing friends.
I took some side roads on my way to the coffee shop, roads I don't typically travel, just for a different perspective. It's a rainy, overcast day, and it occurred to me, not for the first time, that this town looks best against a backdrop of grey. Maybe every town does (Lord knows I've seen enough of them), or maybe it's just me. Maybe I can only really appreciate it without the sun's distracting glare. On a grey, rainy day there isn't the contrast of light and shadow. Everything, the houses, the leafless trees, the evergreens, get an equal chance to show off what they've got.
I thought about these two cool kittens I've met via Blogger. I figure they're almost two in cat years, but they've blown me away with their insights and raw human honesty in a way that you just don't see everywhere else. And I thought about how this chance connection has made my whole world a little brighter, given me hope, shown me there are still people out there that care about something, that are true of heart and spirit. It's renewed my belief in kismet and caused me to marvel at how people can come together from across thousands of miles, drawn only by ideas and expressions and the power of their words.
And I thought about myself, where I am right now. In my Zen state, I was able to watch myself for a moment and assess the situation without too much emotional haze obscuring my view. I am standing on a precipice, about to jump off, and hoping that when I do my wings will appear, and, if they don't, that I at least managed to throw a chute on my back to save me. Or that maybe the bottom won't be sharp, wicked crystal shards after all, and only cotton and marshmallows to catch me. That would be ok. But things are changing so rapidly, and it seems they're only going up, up, up, so I've been a little scared to look down from here. There's a Zen saying (while we're feeling Zenish) that goes, "Leap and the net will appear." That seems right… but it's ponderous.
Driving clears my head like nothing else. Those who know me personally will understand the significance, and why there are times when a car feels more like home to me than any immovable building. The rest of you will have to take my word for it. Or perhaps you'll start to understand through my stories. But I will tell you that roads are my thinking places. And that drive was like medicine.
So I finally made it to the coffee shop. The barista made my coffee just right (hazelnut latte with extra hazelnut), and he even made a pretty little leaf in the foam. They have new artwork on the walls (always local and always for sale) that was right up my alley; all richly colored with whimsical owls and fantastical creatures and exotic designs that made the place feel draped in gypsy light. And though I didn't (couldn't) buy any, I breathed in all their colors and held them in my mind, just happy to know they exist. So many things in life are like that. You don't have to possess them to be enlivened by them. You just have to know they exist, and that knowledge makes everything ok.
If you made it all the way here to the end of this little journey with me, I'd like to ask you a question, because I feel we've grown closer and I'd like to hear your thoughts. You don't have to tell me, but I would be so delighted if you did. What makes you happy to know it exists? What fills you up, just knowing this reality allows for it to be? I'm so very eager to know.
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