pay attention.

If only I could form a solid habit of keeping my eyes open wide, the cap always off the pen, the page always ready. The beauty is there when we search for it. The story is there when we search for it. The lesson is there when we search for it.

If only it would stick, become engrained, that I could remember to slow down and free up my time. That I could remember to pause, take it all in, and say, if this is not the greatest of times, I don't know what is. Sleep is a challenge - my days stretch into the next day, Monday is well into Tuesday by the time Monday is done. And it makes much of the early part of Tuesday get eaten by slumber. And it makes us tired when we don't fill our hearts with the stuff we are already made of; when we don't nourish that voice inside of us that says, "this is who I am, take me out to play, this is what I was made to do; work my legs and limbs."

I think I could be much more strategic with my days. Couldn't we all? The answers are found in the stories of others, who have lived what we haven't yet, when we stop to ask about them. Then I wouldn't have to worry so much when I can't see the story of my own; I could borrow until I find it.

Now I am surrounded by pavement, though the sun is out and beaming off the metal of the window beam, and if I squint and blur it I can compare it to the blinding glisten of the sun on the sea, the eight thousand diamonds crusting the breaks of water. And I remember what it is like to stand close to the ocean, to feel so small and unaware of the world of fish and creature; and then, with the shift of the tide, many less things matter and the things that remain matter more, and you stop thinking of all the things you have to fix in your house and more about what's going on in that small minute of your day. You want to remember it, carry it with you always, I want to live like that, like my feet are always being brushed by the sea, I want to live in the place where I am ever aware and ever in awe of the mystery of it all, and glad to not know the least of it, and wonder about it anyway.

Posted on February 19, 2012 and filed under writing-.