Saturday, April 2, 2011
Out my window
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.