For in the dew of little things, the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. K. Gibran
On the Bluebird Trail at Laguna de Santa Rosa. We also have bluebirds nesting in our attic, which doubles as our storage space. Everything is getting covered with bird shit, but I don’t really mind.
Yesterday I went hiking on Mt. Tam with a group of friends, and after an initial attempt to keep up with their quick pace, I stopped to swoon over a calypso orchid and lagged behind for the remainder of the walk.
On the trail, each step holds a potential for discovery. I like to move slowly, letting my senses integrate, whispering an ongoing prayer to the little things Show Thyself.
Chocolate Lily, also known as Mission Bells or Checker Lily. I didn’t notice this time, but they have a foul odor, and are sometimes called Stink Bells. The smell attracts flies, which they rely on for pollination. The root, which looks like little white balls, is edible. I wouldn’t harvest unless they are plentiful and you feel confident of being able to replant some of the “balls”.
After 18 years in the city, I have a sharp focus for hidden magic. It was a requirement to find those secret patches of nettle in the empty lot, the tri-cornered leek in the tree wells.
Here in our new life, I find myself changing lenses, something like a wide angle with a filter adjusted to let in more astounding beauty.
I’m not sure why I’m a little bit surprised to find that my proclamations of I need nature! were actually really true. That I wasn’t projecting or fidgeting with being in the now (the now of concrete, cars and buildings). The grass, as it turns out, really IS greener.
Years of living in ambivalence about my location had eroded my self trust in the still, small voice. For someone who is highly intuitive, turns out that’s not such a good thing. Now, after only 3 weeks, I’m looking back on those 18 years as this time of bizarre amnesia. Like, how did I end up doing that?
I know how I ended up doing that, of course. I can tell you the whole story, and all the steps and decisions along the way.
What I also can tell you is that I was never fully transformed by the city. I never became a city person, or considered living there the rest of my life. I certainly feared that I would, especially during the last few heinous years of house hunting. But just like Dorothy when she went to OZ, despite the adventure, beauty and extraordinary beings I met, All the same, I just kept telling everybody “I want to go home”.
I will always love San Francisco, my own Emerald City. It resides in my heart in its own special, tender place.
But I didn’t leave my heart there.
Like a good Buddhist, I have worked diligently on my ability to source joy irregardless of circumstance.
But I gotta tell ya’, it sure is nice when happiness becomes effortless. When all the little things add up to the ground under your feet.
What little things are lighting up your world lately?