A Beautiful Summer Morning

Nature poets cannot walk

across the backyard

without tripping over

an epiphany.

Christian Winman

Years ago, I gave my old white wicker rocker to my daughter.  Both of us had spent countless hours in the chair, reading, day dreaming, and contemplating.  So I easily find comfort in sitting on its soft cushion once again. 

It is a beautiful summer morning, cool and comfortable although I know the temperatures will eventually soar.  My eyes drift over the flowers in this lovely backyard realizing how desperately the ivy needs to be trimmed.  I listen to the birds chirping away at the feeders, perhaps planning their day.  I ignore the busy squirrels modeling way too much energy.

There is no sense that I need to write or be inspired.  To just sit in this little patch of nature calms my 'monkey brain'.  I feel connected to all that is  alive and growing.  All that surrounds me reflects the patterns and the cycles that life seems to follow.

Just this morning, I was reading a message about watching a stone gently tossed into a pool of water.   The writing mentioned how some ripples in the water represented the past while others reflected the future.  We must be steadfast as the stone sinks to the bottom, waiting for life to enter.  To be still in the present ... not chasing here nor yonder ...  allowing life to enter into the deeper parts of self.

I am now better prepared for my day, filled with a rainbow of colors from the flowers, and a sense of strength from the trees.  The birds have placed a song in my heart and my 'monkey brain' has been lulled by the motion of the gentle breeze.