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| If only we listen |
Anyone who reads this blog even sporadically knows that I do love my morning walks. They are for keeping me, not only somewhat fit, but sane.
On a recent morning the symphony of sound coming from a soloist mockingbird in a nearby tree prompted me to stop and listen. What joy! The variety and scope of this little guy's tunes was amazing. I thought to myself, "If only..." I wanted to hold onto this joyful rendering, but how?
As I stood transfixed I could not help but think if only the sound could be captured in my mind, all worries, stress, concerns, problems, foibles even would simply disappear. Silly thought perhaps, but...well, what if...?
I think that it is worth pondering the question a bit longer.
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| Color play |
It's morning. and again I am that lucky person who is in it. (Mary Oliver)
A symphony of the senses seems to greet me each day.
Morning brings birdsong in abundance at this time of year. The voices of finches and mockingbirds, doves and crows, along with the more rare oriole, the blue jay, the occasional screech of an overhead hawk are all braided together into a long cord of sound.
The doves call, "Where are you, you, you?" My mind answers, "I am here, here, here." And yet, am I here? There is something in these sounds that sparks memories of so many distant past moments.
Part of the richness of life comes from sweet or bittersweet familiarity found in sight, sound, smell, taste that often inexorably draws us back into our past. For just a brief moment of time we can get to be four years old or fourteen and hold tight to something special uniquely to us.
Our lives are thus intricately woven symphonies of a mingling of the senses and memories of our past. I am a lucky morning person, too, Mary.
