Thursday, September 22, 2011
11:38pm-11:51pmI wonder . . .
There are nights that I look forward to that first sip of coffee –and the grinding of the beans, the sun pouring in the windows, rinsing the filter, pushing the start button—into the next day.
I wonder if it’s the things we look forward to, that fill our life with wonder?
And my, my . . . how many things do we already look forward to, or how many things could and should we teach ourselves to build up to look forward to them –and how much joy and wonder would there be?
The things that make us smile –we could bring the number up with simple choices to savor them, couldn’t we?
And how close will we let ourselves to the edge to love, to care, to reach out hands out to touch the sky or what we think is blue, cool expanse brightened by the sun; toes balanced on the edge?
We could fall. And hurt. And learn and turn away from the choice to become bitter, but rather start climbing another mountain.
Or something else could happen; we could fall be lifted on the wings of wonder and joy and gratitude and touch the clouds.
Of course, climbing mountains and touching clouds won’t be our whole life.
But for moments of joy that could be paralleled to such things.
Such times that fill the soul.
Such times that our souls feel out of breath and weary, tired of existence and trying; waiting for a day to feel new again, hopeful again.
Such times that our soul connects with another.
Such times that grow a smile on our mouth and welling up in our eyes.
Such times that even bring our soul low, searching for bright specks of goodness in the bottom of the river of life.
Such times that make us laugh or sigh inside, with wonder that such good could exist in someone else; that such good could exist and happen to us.
Gratitude is the root of joy.