The air was crisp on my morning walk this morning, and the sky sea blue.  Sun glanced off of spider webs and fence posts and tiny green worms, hanging from trees by silken threads.  Virgin leaves glowed transparent green.  Flowers are in bloom everywhere, on every plant and tree and vine and bush imaginable, and even in the morning chill smell sweet.  I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, but this world just past my front door, this world of wordless thriving: its newness and freshness and textures and scents and colors are contagious.  My sluggish heart couldn’t help but be infected.

It seems like many of us around the blogosphere are finding it hard to write these days.  Many are taking intentional sabbaticals to tend to other aspects of life that have been suffering.  Many feel tired of hearing their own voices, their own lines, their own soapboxes voiced so many times.  Or are in the midst of intense internal growth, and don’t have the words or energy or inclination to try to put such stuff into print.

So we surf.  We surf other people’s sites.  We surf, hungry for words or images that will lift our souls, bring smiles to our faces, make the world seem fresh and new and alive and worth engaging in again.  And all too often, when we’re corporately doing the same thing, we click a million times and see only posts we’ve read before.  “Hallooo!  Hello?” we say to our favorite sites.  “I’m ready; time for you to post something new!”

The thought occurred to me as I walked this morning that when we or those around us are discouraged or unavailable or without internal space to write, nature can become a nourishing and comforting and inspiring companion.  Particularly this time of year.  Though without words, it communicates volumes – both literally, as birds and squirrels and bees all voice their business, but also figuratively, with color, with scent, with leaves and petals reaching hands and cheeks and faces toward the sun.  With trees standing silent, dependable watch.  With rain, even, voicing our rage or grief or tears, or echoing the baptisms we’re feeling inside.  So much to hear out there.  So much to learn from and ponder and simply soak in.

I’m encouraged to find peopled and unpeopled ways to be fed today with the things my soul most needs.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 6th, 2005 at 10:08 am and is filed under Mindfulness, Religion/Spirituality. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.