Early in the morning the sun shines on the river, reflecting spring in the windows of a former monastery.
The view is there every day, though I don't always pause to think about it. But it is good when I take the time to look.
There's fog on the river, I note to myself on a rainy day -- and I am aware that I am not in that fog, nor am I the fog. (I may be in my own fog, but that is a different matter.)
The water's rough today, I think on another day -- and I know that I am not the only one with whitecaps in my life.
Ice is coming down from upstate, I observe -- and I remember that what I do and how I react to circumstances floats into the lives of others.
The water glistens, I note -- and I fill my lungs with the shimmering light, in the hope that it will move like oxygen in my blood to every extremity of my being.
It's good to look out a window, to see beyond ourselves. It doesn't always make life more beautiful, but it does help us become aware that life isn't limited to the corner of stuckness in which we're currently huddled.
Well said! Many times it is hard to get beyond the 'stuckness'.
ReplyDeleteGreat view. I so miss my SF view of the bay and bridge. But now I look out on my tree in the front yard getting ready to burst forth. I am so looking forward to warm, dry weather.
ReplyDeleteWOW...you have that view everyday?! AWESOME; what a blessing. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteYes, it is a blessing. When we were looking at apartments here we kept saying, "Hey, we can go for a walk if we want to look at the river!!" And then our real estate agent talked us into looking at this apartment and we left with jaws open. (Fortunately that was almost 15 years ago, when the neighborhood was just turning. Now we could afford to buy half a closet here.)
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of Psalm 16 saying "the lines have fallen for me in pleasant places."
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