When things are heavy, I tend to walk and walk and walk. Eventually, instead of being lost in thought, I am lost in feeling.

On lucky days, I get a little glimmer of knowing. And once in a blue moon, to bring the point home, there’s an added spark, like the two angel wing shells that washed up at my feet last week, one right after the other. 

Friends, there’s a quiet that sits beyond the buzzing.

From there, we can see clearly

and breathe deeply

and act from love over fear.

I was zipping down the road a few days back when the person in front of me came to an inexplicable stop, far from any signs or lights. Once I slowed myself, I saw a whole gaggle of geese crossing the road. They took their sweet time, too – padding backwards and forwards and ‘round in small circles before they all finally reached the other side.

By the time they had crossed, about a dozen cars had lined up, some in each direction.

No one yelled or cussed.

No one swerved around in a rage.

No one honked (not even the geese). 

The next day, I attended an event where a brave soul in the back of the room stood and started singing. Everyone joined in, timid and first and then more and more fully.

We all sang.

We all smiled.

We all gave a little cheer at the end. 

Dear ones,

just when I think the world may have become permanently, universally meaner,

we surprise me.

Friends, it was a windy week, literally and figuratively, and this poem by E.E. Cummings helped me to catch my breath. 

May we dive for dreams.

May we trust our hearts. 

dive for dreams

or a slogan may topple you

(trees are their roots

and wind is wind)

 

trust your heart

if the seas catch fire

(and live by love

though the stars walk backward)

 

honour the past

but welcome the future

(and dance your death

away at this wedding)

 

never mind a world

with its villains or heroes

(for god likes girls

and tomorrow and the earth)

 

     – E.E. Cummings

Music expresses that which cannot be said.    – Victor Hugo

The solution to so many impossible things is music.

Just in these last few days,

I have wept hearing the chorus from a Broadway musical.

I have been comforted by a little kid singing Three Little Birds on the internet.

I have coped by shouting aaa, ka cha, ka cha at the top of my lungs in the car.

I have been transported by the resonance of a marimba.

Dear ones,

when we are lost,

when we are disappointed,

when we are angered,

when we are hopeful,

and when we are joyful,

let us listen.

Music doesn’t lie.    – Jimi Hendrix

I was tossing and turning last week, curtains drawn, when a text message alerted me to the full moon outside. It shone blindingly bright all through the night, fading only as it set behind the pinky clouds of dawn.

The next day my attention was directed to a guide giving an expert description of nearby historical site. When I turned away I saw the first miraculous plum blossoms of the springtime, quietly blooming off to the side.

Later on I lifted my head from scrolling just in time to see the most glorious mountain view as our train sped by.

Friends, our attention need not be on offer to the loudest bidder, or focused on the most obvious point.

We can choose what to notice.

We can redirect our focus.

We can be alert to the silent wonders

sitting in plain view.

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.

          – Mary Oliver