Unfurling

We can't choose our circumstance

I woke up ridiculously early, which means I’m no longer exhausted. From my place by the big bay window, I can see the outlines of trees against the clear night sky, and the slim crescent of moon rising among the growing leaves. I have the windows open, and the breeze smells sweet. I know, although I cannot hear it from the house, that the sound of growing things is making a continuing rustle as plants move up and unfurl their curled buds into the cool air.

Plants grow where their seeds fall. They can’t choose the quality of their environments. They can’t order rain or sunlight delivered. They can’t control whether they are designated weed or blossom. But this doesn’t stop them from pushing down roots, pushing up shoots, from struggling upward toward the light. Sometimes they are stunted and gnarled by their circumstances. Sometimes they are plucked or uprooted. But they grow while they can.

I began this morning by glancing through the various posts here, and realized quickly, and again, how much despair there is in the world. This is nothing new. Human history is filled with darkness. But when I look up and see the world around me, I know that darkness cannot be my all. We are physical creatures, but we have spiritual needs. If we feed ourselves with despair and misery, that is all we experience. Life comes once. These are our days. We can choose misery, or we can choose gratitude. We can choose hope.

I see this in the Ukrainians, day after day, fighting, nearly alone, for their existence. But they keep their coffee shops going. They eat cake. They send robots out to rescue hobbling little old ladies wandering alone down a war-ravaged road. They rescue animals caught in the confusion and terror of war. In the midst of the worst horrors imaginable, they acknowledge what life holds, and what matters. They live in darkness, but they look toward the light.

The horizon is orange now, but the moon is still visible in the east. The wind moves the branches outside my window. It is so early, my dogs have gone back to bed without me, but I can hear the first bird song in the soft stirrings of the wind.

Life has always been hard, but we are fools if that’s all we see. We have purpose, whether or not we know what it is. We owe it to ourselves to keep our hearts open and our spirits directed toward the glorious gifts of this earth.

We are mortal creatures, but we don’t have to cower in the dust.

We also have coffee. And I have just enough milk for another cup.

***

”And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”~Julian of Norwich

These posts are about finding the beauty in daily life, even amid the craziness, uncertainty, and anxiety. Reality is not going away, but these are the only days we get, so we have to relish their small beauties while we have them. If you are a paid subscriber, please know how deeply grateful I am for your support. The kindness and enthusiasm of your comments buoy me and keep me writing, but the paid subscriptions are an extra vote of confidence I truly appreciate. These posts will always be free, however, so if all you can do is share, that is helpful, too. Whatever you decide, I’m glad you’re here.

Auggie has found a little hidey hole.