MAY MORNING

MORNING..... I think of Thoreau, who wrote in his journal:

"I have just heard the flicker among the oaks on the hillside ushering in a new
dynasty...Eternity could not begin with more security and momentousness than the
spring. The summer's eternity is reestablished by this note. All sights and
sounds are seen and heard both in time and eternity. And when the eternity of
any sight or sound strikes the eye or ear, they are intoxicated with delight."

Have you been so programmed by noise that you can’t enjoy the sound of water lapping against the side of the dock, the surf rolling the sand, shells or pebbles on the beach, or the calls of the newly hatched, the mewling sounds of a newborn creature as it searches for a bit of nourishment. Do you hear the hum of bees in the garden? Can you tell what kind of bird it is by the sound of their wings? These things are the sound of Peace, contentment, a connection with the earth and the Self.

I still thrill at the sight of a red cardinal sitting in the camellia outside my window and marvel at the subtle coloring of the mama cardinal as she sits on a branch nearby. I get excited when I see the tiny flowers on my berry bushes and watch as the pods form on the peas climbing up the fence. The air yesterday morning was heavy with left over rain and the promise of more rain to come mixed with the fragrance of honeysuckle. A gentle breeze added the scent of the magnolia to the air and I ventured out to find the blossoms, gaze at their huge magnificence next to the fragile petals of the honeysuckle growing up the tree. I can’t imagine being confined to a world of concrete and bricks, glass and steel, traffic and city noise… the crowds of people brushing by reeking of human smells, alcohol, tobacco, body odors, cologne, aftershave, smelly deodorants, hair control products, stale food…

Today the air is cooler, crisper, they say, tho I have never figured out how air can be crisp, I guess they mean drier, a perfect day to be out in the yard getting some chores done. It is difficult to concentrate on the work at hand, there is so much beauty to pause and admire. Some things are big, bright and bold in color, other things are tiny, subtle, and yet equally as spell binding. In the evening I try to concentrate on getting the grass (mostly weeds) cut, but keep thinking I must come back out here on foot in the morning and look at this or that. I cut the grass slowly, grateful to have the machine to take me where my legs don't want to go, but hate the noise drowning out the bird song.

Morning comes, breezy, fresh, almost chilly for a change. The honeysuckle is on the wind this morning. The little cat trots along ahead of me telling me about what went on in the yard last night, stopping to inspect a hole made by a deer stepping in the soft dirt, saying a few words to the new lilies freshly opened, hiding in the ferns to ambush me as I pass by. A car goes by. I hear the deep BOOM BOOM BOOM as the driver, thinking how cool he is, hastens deafness with what his generation considers music. I return to the sounds and sights of my little world, so grateful to be there, knowing of the suffering around me. For now, I have been given this gift.

Give me space and fresh air! Let me hear the rustling of the wind in the trees, the smells of the blossoms, the breeze ruffling my hair. Let me walk on the earth, not the pavement, with a little cat meowing by my side. Let me feel the rough bark of the trees in my yard, caress the petals of the rose, taste the sweetness of the strawberries in my garden.

That, my friends, is Peace, Contentment.

What a blessed Morning.