Air after Rainstorm

I have been posting less frequently as of late. I thought I would be entering a time of rest and relaxation and have instead learned that I will likely have to begin a lengthy period of intense focus and large amounts of unpaid labor related to my job. I’ve gone through pretty much all of the stages of grief in relation to this. I was at first furious and then depressed that my plans had been dashed; I’ve now adjusted to the news as best I can and finding glimpses of gratitude.

In the context of this time of transition, the weather where I live has been equally unpredictable and out of sync with what it would normally be for this time of year. Today, though, we’re getting late-spring heavy rain. I went outside during a break in the downpours and was blessed by the intense earthy and floral perfume that seemed suspended in the saturated air. I have a pine tree and I noticed drops of water clinging to the end of each needle–the moment before, now and after co-existing in the surface tension.

The most joyous part of my meditation was the birdsong. It was bursting from trees in every direction and I felt that I’d stumbled into the middle of a sing-off between rival bird groups. For once, there was more non-human than human noise where I live and I relished the moment. How is nature showing up for you today?

Birdsong in Winter (Today’s Simple Pleasure)

My day began by realizing I’d slept in until it was quite sunny outside. This made me happy as I felt I’d finally gotten a good night’s rest. As my dog and I walked outside in the rising sun, I heard birdsong cascading up and down the tree branches. There were at least two songbirds in chorus with one another. I felt my heart soaring and my inner well of strength filling; as I wrote recently, there is more beauty than pain in the world. For every dark moment, a candle burns, casting light beyond its wick into its surroundings.

My experiences in life have left me a vocal witness to suffering whenever I encounter it. I cannot look away and pretend all is well. But, in the same moment, I can find the flower peaking through the snow. I don’t need hope that things will get better. Rather, I need acknowledgement that, in the midst of despair, there is a space of honoring and being-with and a space of joy. When life completely devastates me, the trauma-voice in my head has one mantra “make it stop.” I don’t have the ability to end every negative encounter, but I do have the capacity to stand up for myself as I validate my own perceptions and to find the places where light streams through and the birds burst into song.