After what feels like weeks of fog and countless thin blankets of spring snow, I am outside laying on the deck listening to the ice melting onto the metal roof. The soothing rhythm is punctuated by the morning song of the recently returned pair of meadowlarks. They feel like old friends.
I have felt as though I have died a hundred times this week. Some deaths smaller than others. A few times my heart has felt so strange I imagined it might be my last beat. My last breath. And if so, would I be at peace with the life I have lived?
A resounding yes circulated within my veins. For what an exquisite experience this life has been thus far. Raised in the trees where my sister and the flowers were the best friends I could ever have. A bit of a bumpy lift off into adult hood helped me arrive in the mountains in my early twenties, finding the love of my life and a reintroduction to the magic I had forgotten that I carried.
Given the chance I wouldn’t change a thing.
What a tapestry of lessons this life of mine has weaved.
The snow melt is slowing and the sun is growing warmer on my skin. I can hear my daughter making pancakes. My son is doing math homework and I am out here thinking about life and death. Gently reminded of the cycles in which we all live. Changing phases, shifting perspectives. Endless growth.
One day these beautiful bodies will breathe their last breath. Life will leave in an instant and our vessels with be reabsorbed into the earth.
It’s a bit of a wild set up when you think about it, isn’t it? How we came here to experience a human life. How we have forgotten much, if not all, of what we once knew. How we get to rediscover who we really are over the course of our lifetime and how we don’t know just how long it will be. Learning to love ourselves through the anxiety that can arise with being human and not knowing the answers.
Pondering all of my big questions I watch as the blackbirds dance in the air, a choreographed ceremony only they can understand. There must be at least 50 birds silently dancing. I am grateful to be able to witness their presence.
The wind picks up and I move inside. Holding the light in my hands. Releasing life’s questions back into the ethers. Perhaps it isn’t time to have all of the answers. Perhaps it is by design that we get to remember our magic over the course of our lifetime.
It is so easy to see the splendor when you look at the wings of a bird. When you listen to the song of the lark. The magic is so obvious when you hear the music of the snowmelt and feel the bliss of the spring sunshine. But do you see the magic in the mirror? Feel the divine wisdom in your own hands? Can you release the questions and bask in the beauty of being alive? There is nothing simple about it. Layers and shadows. Healing and learning. None of it is simple yet all of it plays it’s part of what makes a life so intriguing.
I make an agreement with myself to see more of the magic within and to let more of my own magic out. So I share this morning ramble with you as an invitation to see and share yours, too.
We are made of the stars. Let us all shine together.
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