On Mother’s Day, my spouse and I ventured into the woods, she with her camera, and I with a hat. Spring in Vermont fully here, bird song, rushing rivers, and myriad shades of green exploding from forest floor to tree top. Ours was a meditative stroll, moments barefoot, even a toe dipped into the icy mountain stream, feeling the great mother of us all.
Seasons set us on a new direction. This Spring, the rebirth of a business, a routine of walking together, eating even greener, all to nurture ourselves inside and out. This stroll under the big blue sky with little direction, proffered a singular gift: to find our inner fire. We stepped in stride.
We find delight within the shade of the tall trees. These resilient plants that dare to poke out from under last year’s fallen foliage cause us to linger, crouch, and marvel at their delicate leaves and pastel shades. Trillium. We spy several varieties all a different hue. We count ourselves lucky. No, luckier. They survived. We survived. And today we rejoice together.
Water is part of my soul. I can’t get far from that element without despair creeping inside. Today we ventured to the source racing and rushing with enough force to round rocks and topple trees. This is not a power to mess with and we are halted in awe. Reverence. Those secrets running past call out, we remember to hear truths. Boisterous loud daring honesty in waves. We listen.
We yearn for more of this reprieve from our fast-pace life. From the up and out and busy through the seconds that make up each day. For together years have fled by us. This day we allow the cold water to return us to the now, to the daring expectations that the very next minute might hold. I hop from rock to rock to get closer to that. And then sit steady. Believe. Right here.
Each hour of this day unfolding as it might, we meander into discovery. Might this not be our everyday? How might the beginner’s mind be swapped with our tired one? Let this sunlight falling on feet and face be felt with all wonder alone. This river strips away our debris, the old, to bone.
What is it about decisions and choices that lay ahead that make us doubt? There are days when all I want is to see a straight line in front of me, and other days when that is the very last course I wish to take. We walk on, taking the curves in stride, slowing at the challenge, peering behind before space fades, but moving as curious explorers must. Beyond is a new way, a path to take.
Flowers budding on every branch leaves leafing while the light shifts our view upward. There is laughter core deep that follows nature’s lead and bursts forth. We hold hands. Feel the soft breeze smell that honey sweet exquisite softening earth coming back after the winter freeze. Our banter turns to dreams and they all seem less daunting almost pastoral in their simplicity. This life our life turns from starry wonder to realized potential as we stroll on grassy path far from our beaten one.
I hope you too found a place all your own last Sunday. If not, get there soon, whatever, where ever out there means to you. A place to remember those lost treasures and ambitions, those very gems that make you. Remember to step off, capture all your astray passion, and tug it back inside.
And a special Cheer to all the mothers and those who nurture this planet and all the inhabitants!
Photo credit: my dear Miss Mj, who catches the best moments we share, and can do the same for you through ArtCity Marketing
