I am sitting in my room, looking out the window at the rising of the near-full moon, listening to the sounds of the night critters croaking and chirping. They seem particularly noisy this evening; perhaps because it is such a fine night after what was a beautiful day. I find that I am drawing comfort from the sights and sounds and almost wish I were sitting outside to write. My heart is feeling a little restless tonight, though I’m not inclined at the moment to spend a great deal of time contemplating the nature of the disquiet. I merely want to acknowledge it.
I have been in the midst of transition for quite some time. Simply put, my life was thrown into chaos at the beginning of 2011 and it has taken me many, many months to begin to collect my wits about me and orient myself into the strange world in which I landed. It was like being flung into another time or an alternate universe where some things looked the same but behaved in very different and unexpected ways. There have been times when I thought I was finally seeing the light at the end of a very long tunnel only to realize I wasn’t in a tunnel, but a cave–there was no other side, or so it felt at times.
This is one of those moments I wish I were a poet. I wish I could capture the essence of what I am feeling and convey it in such a manner that it would so resonate with anyone reading it, that they would be touched and moved. The best I can do most nights is offer simple reflections of gratitude as it presents itself in my life, how the many blessings of life bubble up into my consciousness and into these words each night. I am grateful for other’s words of inspiration that seem to come from all around me–from authors and poets, philosophers and public figures, religious leaders and CEOs–their words encourage my heart, fire my imagination, stir my soul.
One of the upsides of social networking and the explosion of the blogosphere and other forms of instant communication is that our access to the words and ideas of others are immediately available. That is of course also one of the downsides. Simply by scrolling down a few screens of my Facebook page I can be both inspired by the words of the Dalai Lama, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa and other notable people and disheartened, incensed, and inflamed by the harsh, vitriolic, and hate-filled words of other public figures that squeeze my heart with sadness and anguish at the state of human relations in our country.
Oh yes, I wish I were a poet and could describe the incredible beauty that exists, even in the midst of difficulty. That has been part of my journey of the past 18 months. But alas, I am not, though I have instant access to the poets and preachers who can articulate for me what I can’t find words for myself. I will perhaps avail myself of the words of others this evening, reading Mary Oliver or Parker Palmer or the psalmist David. Or perhaps I will simply sit here in the dark stillness of my room, gaze at the moon, listen to the poetry of the insects and animals and feel gratitude for my one wild and precious life.
