The view is better here. To be fair, it doesn’t take much to beat a white wall. Still, even when the sun rises directly in front of me and I’m blinded, the view is exponentially better. It’s coming up over the golden field across the road. Every morning it comes up. It’s lovely. Truly, undeniably, completely lovely, squinty eyes and all.
It’s the opposite of grocery shopping at Walmart yesterday which was loud, hurried, and the advertisements and store products battled for my attention. Here, in the yard and across the road, there is only earth and sky. Earth covered in fallen leaves holding black dirt, scattered chicken feed, and free roaming whitetail deer. Sky carrying whites, blues, and with outstretched arms, presenting a piercing yellow sun. “Be at peace, here, as you exist within us, earth and sky,” they seem to say. I can’t help but hear that.
The dogs vie for my attention unless they’re sleeping on their respective rugs. The cats do too—when they’re hungry. Dishes in the sink don’t matter because I’m practicing letting go of the pressure to tidy incessantly (that was yesterday’s prayer, remember?). Even John is content here, too. He’s pleased to write and drink coffee in easy conversation. And laugh at the dogs. We’re here for a few more days. Let us be at peace as we exist within this space of earth and sky.
I won’t look at the budget until Friday, but I want to worry about it today, Tuesday. Help me forget the numbers in our accounts and bless me with an obedient heart. The calendar knows days and keeps track of them by neat squares, Sunday through Saturday, but earth and sky know morning by sunrise and night by sunset. It is Rhythm of Nature keeping a steady pulse. Yesterday is gone, but there is always tomorrow. Even with that, wilderness lives only in the right now. Wilderness does not burden itself with tomorrows and next weeks and next years. How nice. Let us be at peace as we exist within this space of earth and sky.
It’s easier to feel the pulse when we’re miles outside of the city and looking at a golden field, but morning and night come everywhere. Our circadian rhythm is tuned into that very heartbeat of day, night, day night. Day, night, day, night. We can, anywhere, grab hold of that peace offered by the right now sandwiched between creation above and creation underfoot. We are assuredly held safe in that pocket. Can we train our minds to remember the pulse that is so loud here? Could we bring that memory with us, tucked away deep into our bones wherever we might go? Where we go, let us be all the way there knowing how closely we are held, existing in the space of our bodies within earth and sky.
We say amen with sunshine, the breath of day, etched onto our hearts.
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