It rained hard last night. It seemed to come out of nowhere.
With whipping winds, thunder cries and illuminating flashes of energy.
There’s something about a storm that I’ve always loved.
How it makes you nestle into your space and the moments of witnessing…
each other, ourselves, the elements.
There’s also a promise of change that you can quite literally smell in the air –
particularly from a passionate spring storm.
The splashing promise of awakening.
And sure enough, we woke up to a world of greens come alive,
flowers that just couldn’t wait any longer to voice their color toward the sun,
and trees with leaf buds that seem to say, ‘Yes, let’s do this thing. I’m ready.’
And inside this body of mine, there was a stirring shift, too,
brought on by the contrast of the mysterious storm.
The shadows, today, dance like lovers in the wind.
Each breath is like tasting color,
and each hue that pours into me is a drink of this gift, this life, this beginning, just this.
In these moments I remember.
I am the storm, the water, the kiss, the spring, spirit and song.
The sense, the drink, the color,
the trees, birds, flashes, and rays.
I am the wind in this changing.
I am the canvas on which it paints itself into being
again and again,
and I get to be the artist, too.
And then I am also this,
I am the witness to this.
All of This.
12 april 2013
first entry for Just This Life, frequent spontaneous musings and prayers about daily presence as an art in this one blessed life experience