teach me to be alive
This morning and yesterday morning, right when I woke up, I was immediately discouraged, didn't want to get out of bed. I'm not sure why. But both times, fairly quickly, I started preaching to myself, looking to all the things I am grateful for about this day, trying to soak in the blessings of breath in my lungs, cozy warmth of my duvet, the books I'm eager to read, the place I get to be. It's a step, better than just wallowing in the ugh-bleh-ness. Though I do also want to learn to pay attention to those feelings, those longings for something more, and "listen, that you may have life" (Isaiah 55, this morning's reading). It occurred to me, since I felt unenthused and distracted as I sat down for my morning time, to go outside with my psalms and prayers and sit with my feet in the grass (per the recommendation of my spiritual director as a spiritual/physical practice of being, and letting go of control, e.g. my socks, haha).
It is beautiful out here - the chirping of the birds is a refreshing constant. They chirp every morning. Every one. No matter how horrible the day before was. No matter how troubled my sleep or foggy my mind. They are a reminder that each day is a beautiful gift worth singing over, and it's enough to just be alive.
Each part of the outdoors speaks in silent expressions of some special knowledge they hold. The clouds, so gargantuan and yet so absolutely silent. The trees, never moving from their one forever patch of ground, but working their way slowly higher, so unhurried. The sound of the horses ripping grass into their mouths and chewing and ripping some more, just like yesterday and tomorrow. The dandelions in their various stages of bloom, not comparing one to another, simply gradually opening themselves to the world when they are ready to be seen.
Why do I worry? Why do I fear that my life isn't everything it should be, why fear that I won't amount to as much as I want, accomplish it all, or make a difference? As if I don't see that everything of nature is telling me, "You are alive; that is beautiful. That is enough. Join the celebration that is life." I am already enough, I am part of this world - I was at my first breath, my first heartbeat.
Yet this reality doesn't stop other realities, doesn't stop a dead mouse in the grass or the pain in my neck or the bad news coming in a text message. But these realities are together. Even with a mind full of uncertainties or clouded with worry, there are still ducks in the pond scraping the bottom with their beaks as their tails and webbed orange feet stick up in the air. After my story is over there will still be trees and birds and dandelions.
Nature, teach me how to live through the days in gratitude, be they sun or rain, peace or storm. I am alive in it all with you, oh clouds and wind and water and creatures. I am alive - sing for joy.
It is beautiful out here - the chirping of the birds is a refreshing constant. They chirp every morning. Every one. No matter how horrible the day before was. No matter how troubled my sleep or foggy my mind. They are a reminder that each day is a beautiful gift worth singing over, and it's enough to just be alive.
Each part of the outdoors speaks in silent expressions of some special knowledge they hold. The clouds, so gargantuan and yet so absolutely silent. The trees, never moving from their one forever patch of ground, but working their way slowly higher, so unhurried. The sound of the horses ripping grass into their mouths and chewing and ripping some more, just like yesterday and tomorrow. The dandelions in their various stages of bloom, not comparing one to another, simply gradually opening themselves to the world when they are ready to be seen.
Why do I worry? Why do I fear that my life isn't everything it should be, why fear that I won't amount to as much as I want, accomplish it all, or make a difference? As if I don't see that everything of nature is telling me, "You are alive; that is beautiful. That is enough. Join the celebration that is life." I am already enough, I am part of this world - I was at my first breath, my first heartbeat.
Yet this reality doesn't stop other realities, doesn't stop a dead mouse in the grass or the pain in my neck or the bad news coming in a text message. But these realities are together. Even with a mind full of uncertainties or clouded with worry, there are still ducks in the pond scraping the bottom with their beaks as their tails and webbed orange feet stick up in the air. After my story is over there will still be trees and birds and dandelions.
Nature, teach me how to live through the days in gratitude, be they sun or rain, peace or storm. I am alive in it all with you, oh clouds and wind and water and creatures. I am alive - sing for joy.
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