“The greatest oak was once a little nut that held its ground.” Anonymous
When I was outside walking my brisk morning walk today, I had an epiphany. Well, maybe it’s a re-piphany because I’m pretty sure I have it every year around this time. It’s just that as you get older it’s a little harder to remember exact details (a blessing in many ways.)
The wind was blowing. The huge oak trees are still mostly filled with green leaves making them look like big broccoli florets. One by one, leaves are turning brown and tumbling through the air. As they ride the wind, they spin, and the sun makes them glisten almost to a twinkle state. The whole sky seems to fill with dancing leaves. The scene was so beautiful that I kept hearing this run through my head–and, of course, I can’t remember who said it:
“We are divine beings having a human experience.”
I reached up and tried to catch a leaf. It looked like it was heading towards me, but then it turned. I did it again not really starting to care now about what the neighbors think. (“Um, Bill, what’s that lady that’s always walking up and down the street doing out there swatting the air? She’s a funny one.”)
Each leaf danced right past my hand and went on it’s way to circle play with the other leaves chasing each other around and around on the black asphalt.
Here’s where the epiphany comes in…and thanks for waiting. Sometimes when the world is swirling with all sorts of things around us, either globally (Syria), or locally (bureaucratic nonsense keeping kids from getting the mental health help they need), or individually (crap–we’re missing ANOTHER planting season for that landscape project that’s been on hold for 5 years), we can let them dance. We don’t have to grab them and hold on. We can watch them spin by, being the essence of what they are, and know that all things have their season. We can make our focus the beauty of the overall picture. If we can’t see it, we may need to talk to a friend. Friends have a way of helping us see better.
Our vision is so often clouded by all our own stuff circle dancing in our heads. But if we just open up our eyes to the ordinary details of the seasons and listen, they will whisper to us the magic of the lives we live.