December 2, 2012 brought with it beautiful deep blue skies with nary a cloud and temperatures warm enough to bask in. A perfect day for a walk. So I took one.
Taking a walk is not an odd thing for me to do. I like walks. Having a dog is a great excuse to make myself do it even when the weather isn't December 2-ish all year round. I like to walk in the evening, after most of the day has passed. It gives me time to let the thoughts in my brain catch up to the activities and conversations my body and ears have taken in on that particular day. It's a time to reflect, to unravel my mental and emotional threads and place them in their corresponding slots in this brain of mine that has to organize it's thoughts in such a way.
On this particular walk, my brain was quite busy. I had a slew of unorganized thoughts that needed to be untangled and set straight, labeled, and placed in their proper places on the shelves of my mind. I walked for a little over an hour. About forty five minutes into it, I realized that all I'd seen of this gorgeous day was asphalt.
I raised my eyes a couple of inches. That's all it took. The blueness of the sky took my breath away. Blue has always been my favorite color, and when I saw this sky, I was reminded why: it was clear and crisp, a blue so deep and perfect that I wanted to reach through it, grab it, hold onto it, make it mine. I wanted to take it in intravenously, so it would be a part of me.
Yet I had spent three fourths of my walk looking down, oblivious to the beauty right above me. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts, so concerned about not stepping in a pothole or doggie doo-doo or tripping on an uneven sidewalk that I'd almost missed it. I'd almost had an ordinary walk. I'd almost made my home without experiencing the beauty that was with me the whole time.
How often do I (you? we?) do that in life? There's so much awesome, amazing beauty all around us, but we're so intent on looking at the asphalt, making sure we don't trip or step in somebody's crap that we don't even think to look up.
I don't want to suddenly find myself home and realize then that I'd missed it - that I'd never even known it was there. I want to see the brilliantly blue skies every day of my life. If I trip or step in a pile of crap along the way, well, somehow, I think it will be worth it.
Taking a walk is not an odd thing for me to do. I like walks. Having a dog is a great excuse to make myself do it even when the weather isn't December 2-ish all year round. I like to walk in the evening, after most of the day has passed. It gives me time to let the thoughts in my brain catch up to the activities and conversations my body and ears have taken in on that particular day. It's a time to reflect, to unravel my mental and emotional threads and place them in their corresponding slots in this brain of mine that has to organize it's thoughts in such a way.
On this particular walk, my brain was quite busy. I had a slew of unorganized thoughts that needed to be untangled and set straight, labeled, and placed in their proper places on the shelves of my mind. I walked for a little over an hour. About forty five minutes into it, I realized that all I'd seen of this gorgeous day was asphalt.
I raised my eyes a couple of inches. That's all it took. The blueness of the sky took my breath away. Blue has always been my favorite color, and when I saw this sky, I was reminded why: it was clear and crisp, a blue so deep and perfect that I wanted to reach through it, grab it, hold onto it, make it mine. I wanted to take it in intravenously, so it would be a part of me.
Yet I had spent three fourths of my walk looking down, oblivious to the beauty right above me. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts, so concerned about not stepping in a pothole or doggie doo-doo or tripping on an uneven sidewalk that I'd almost missed it. I'd almost had an ordinary walk. I'd almost made my home without experiencing the beauty that was with me the whole time.
How often do I (you? we?) do that in life? There's so much awesome, amazing beauty all around us, but we're so intent on looking at the asphalt, making sure we don't trip or step in somebody's crap that we don't even think to look up.
I don't want to suddenly find myself home and realize then that I'd missed it - that I'd never even known it was there. I want to see the brilliantly blue skies every day of my life. If I trip or step in a pile of crap along the way, well, somehow, I think it will be worth it.
Love this Lori. The last line is my favorite. Glad you're still writing. Keep it up!
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