Sometimes my meditations take the form of an inner conversation, I suppose you could call it. It’s all in words. Some days it stays internal, and some days it flows onto page or screen.
This morning I was thinking back to a chat I’d had with a friend recently, where I was questioning my Why of existence– from the perspective of what is my overarching purpose. What arose is that my primary purpose is to witness the small moments.
I thought how remembering these small moments transmits them back to the universe– whether you view it as pranashakti, God, some ethereal council of beings, or something else entirely. Or nothing. It could be “live stream” (I just mistyped this as “love stream” a few times, and that’s not inaccurate!) or when hopefully long from now I leave this body and report back. Despite the horrors that we are bombarded with daily (and some experience), there is this:
“Look how wondrous this existence has been!”
Texture of bark on my favourite trees. I spent awhile this morning visiting each of them.
The day I noticed each tree has its own song when the wind caresses it.
The dance of shadows, and how sometimes I can see the faeries hiding there.
When I see a plant waving, and there’s no wind my skin can feel.
The lap of The Wise Old Tree in Minneapolis fit me perfectly, and I received from her exactly what I needed every time.
Sunlight shining through flower petals and butterfly wings.
Buzzing of bird wings when they fly closely.
How once a hummingbird hovered so closely to me I could feel the breath of its wings. And how delightful it is to hear their little beep beeps and watch them ride invisible rollercoasters when they are showing off to each other.
Bees with their pollen pants. One day I noticed a bee with **purple**polling plants, which expanded my knowledge of what colour pollen is.
One day I followed a bee on its journey until it went where a mere human couldn’t follow.
The smell of breakfast as I pass homes on Sunday morning walks.
Backyard conversations floating on the air.
Laughing with friends from the depths of our souls.
When breath sounds like the ocean, and the ocean, breath.
Seeing people’s inner child come out when they get an ice cream cone.
Looks shared between people tells one a lot about how they are relating to each other in that moment, or maybe always.
Witnessing fear course through a small child when a loud noise startled them. Not knowing what they might have experienced, assuring them they were safe in this moment. And thinking how many children do not have this assurance or safety.
How soft the sweater is of a neighbour I’ve only waved to when we finally took a moment to share each other’s names.
Appreciating the delicious feeling of my bed every night, and the gratitude I have for this experience, and a place to stay inside every day. Being cozy in bed when it’s raining.
Warmth of a lemon in my hand that someone picked from their tree and gave to me while I was out walking, and the fresh lemon scent that filled my apartment when I got home.
Times my words and presence have lifted someone up, and the times when I have not been my best. When I remember these less than stellar times, I whisper “I’m sorry” to these people, and let it go.
The joy I have of being able to sing around the house without being asked to stop, and the joy of a friend or family member joining in.
I used to hear people singing or whistling in public, and I don’t hear that much any more.
The peace of quiet when I wake up in the middle of the night, and there’s no traffic.
The bliss of sitting in my car for a moment when I come home, even though I live alone.
The beautiful community I have with my current neighbours. We take care of each other without getting into each other’s business, and I cherish it.
So much more. Every day there’s one small thing I can tuck away in the scrapbook of my heart and pull out at any time.
No big achievements by societal standards. Simply witnessing and Being in this world.
What have you witnessed today?
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