Snow is softly falling and I have the privilege to watch without interruption, to watch without keeping track of time, to watch without any obligations for the remainder of the day. For once in a long time I can be instead of do.
I do not have much experience being. I am only familiar with doing.
And so when this rare gem of a time was allowed, suddenly everything became so important. The way the tempo of the falling snow quickened and slowed, quickened and slowed…The way a thin blanket of snow covered last years sage leaves that I was too busy to harvest…The way the sage quaked with a gentle breeze…The way soft purples and deep blues hid in the snow… All of it became so important!
What else do I miss on a daily basis?
My grandmother used to sit at the window for hours and just look outside. For hours. I used to feel sorry for her, thinking she was bored. But now I understand. This is necessary for a contemplative life.
I need more of it.