It's the Little Things
August 18, 2024
It’s the sun setting earlier, the natural progression from day to night telling my body it’s time to rest, the beautiful darkness enveloping me as I lie down in bed.
It’s the sun rising later, allowing me to rise slowly into the darkness, not rushing into the light of day. It’s seeing the stars, and sometimes the moon, when I open the curtains.
It’s goldfinches in the chicory feasting on the seeds and an orchard oriole darting among the wildflowers most call weeds. What a table is set before them!
It’s a young fawn with her mother, gently grazing in the grass in the earliest light of dawn.
It’s a tiny blue-gray gnatcatcher appearing from the bush, just for a second. Darting in and out of the leaves and fluttering up to catch a bug too small for me to see.
It’s a red saddlebag dragonfly that lands in my tree and just smiles for the camera. He grooms himself as the branch blows in the wind.
It’s the yellow-striped armyworm caterpillar munching on a leaf and the purple ironweed mixed into the otherwise green branches. I hope I’ll get lucky enough to see the moth this caterpillar will become.
It’s the prism of a spiderweb creating colors from the light of the rising sun and the joy of playing with the focus to see how bright the colors might be.
It’s the young ruby-throated hummingbird at my feeder, still diligently chasing away all would-be competitors. This one has three little rubies, and I start to identify them by the markings on their throats.
It’s the chimney swifts swirling in the light of the rising sun, chasing each other, appearing playful and light on the winds.
It’s the early fall migrants who remind me that the wheel is turning and soon, so soon, the jewels of fall will surprise me with their presence. Avocets, terns, egrets and gulls have all made brief appearances.
Some days are easy but some days are not. Some days a seemingly small thing might spin up my fears. The energy within me rises and swirls, my mind swirls and struggles, and it’s hard to think. I have a toolkit for days like this - breathing, grounding, qigong, guided meditation, laying on the floor. Some days it’s hard to get myself to use my tools, to let go of the grasping, to just stop.
I know I need to stop, acknowledge the fears, send love to the fearful parts and my spinning mind. That often happens as I lay down in bed and don’t fall asleep. I imagine myself being rocked on a boat by the water and sing myself a lullabye. I imagine myself being held in the warm embrace of my spirit protector who looks a lot like Dan May’s “Gentle Creature” or Sweetums from the muppets.
Eventually sleep comes, at least for a little while. The next day require gentleness and moving slowly, allowing myself to recover. The next day requires large doses of self-compassion and acceptance. I hold onto the knowing I will probably sleep well the next night.
On that recovery day, and really every day, it’s the little things that carry me through. A walk, the sun on my face, a drop of dew, and all the tiny creatures who remind me I don’t have to be my best to find beauty.
What carries you through on the tough days?
Knowing there are highly sensitive people in this world who feel strongly, care deeply, suffer & struggle greatly yet find the resilience within to not only survive but thrive. Thank you Karen for having the Courage to be vulnerable and sharing. You are a "gift by example" to more people than you can possibly imagine. Your ripples are far reaching....
What carries me through the tough days is the same--gazes at beauty in nature.