For Just This Moment
April 17, 2022
For just this moment, I am watching a tiny glow of pink on the horizon. It won’t last long, the clouds are overtaking the sunrise and I can see the distinctive lines of sprinkles in the sky behind me. But for this moment, this beauty is enough. A deep breath. Stillness. Little cootie squeaks.
For just this moment, I watch a horned grebe swimming behind me. I try not to move so he won’t see me hidden here on the dock. He is swimming in the most beautiful sunlit water and diving for fish. I’m so glad he stuck around and gave me a few more photos.
For just this moment, I am listening to the crows shriek louder than I’ve ever heard before. I walk to the edge of the parking lot, expecting to see an an owl in the trees - the only thing I can think of that might make them scream so loud. I see something fuzzy and wonder if perhaps there are fledgling great horned owls? It is that time of year. I put my camera to my eye and take a minute to register the sight - a bobcat? In a tree!
For just this moment I am listening to the purple martins with their whistles and trills and watching them swoop over my head. Fast and agile, I laugh when I try to photograph them and am delighted to get one in focus!
For just this moment, I am watching an eared grebe glide through a small cove. I sneak in as quietly as I can to the bank, half-hidden by some shrubs, hoping he will not notice and fly away. He glides past me towards the closed end of the cove. He turns and glides back, slowly passing me. I am awed by the splendor of his breeding plumage. Spring party clothes are stunning!
I want all my moments to be peaceful and serene. I want to be the picture of calm and resourcefulness. Yet many of my moments are devoted to all the things I do to manage the unsettled nature of my nervous system. Hours spent in slow, gentle movements. Meditation after meditation. My home and schedule arranged to give myself the best chance of good sleep.
So often I wish I wasn’t her. The sensitive woman. The woman with the mind that spins the worst possible outcome and won’t. let. go. I want to conquer it - conquer her - be the perfect picture of calm and peace. The Disney character who glides into the room and everyone knows she is in complete control.
Yet. If not for her, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have learned to sit quietly, alone, at the edge of the cove. I would never have seen an eared grebe in all its splendor. I would never have known about the secret sunrise just before the rain. I would never have seen a bobcat in a tree.
I would never have met this woman, the one who trusts her instincts, trusts the crows, trusts the trees, trusts the wind. She is the same woman. To love part of her is to love all of her. My task is to love her fully, without apology, without trying to change her.
Every spring migration is so different. This year I haven’t seen any pelicans but five years ago I watched this (4/14/2018), still the most watched video I’ve ever posted:
I’ve only seen loons once, a few weeks ago, when some years they would have been more plentiful. This year I’ve had multiple flocks of tree sparrows and an eared grebe! This is the way it is. Each year the flight patterns vary with the weather and winds. It’s this way too in our lives. I sometimes want everything to stay the same, I find comfort in familiarity, and yet no two moments are really ever the same.
How do you find comfort in an ever-changing world?
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Here’s a few more calming photos from this week!
Wishing everyone comfort and joy in the week ahead.