Common Miracles: Week 9

“Rejoicing in ordinary things is not sentimental or trite. It actually takes guts. Each time we drop our complaints and allow everyday good fortune to inspire us, we enter the warrior’s world.” – Pema Chodron

'm late with my Common Miracles post this week, not because I'm lacking in common miracles, but because I got busy and wrapped up in the yard yesterday and finally got inside as darkness fell, and promptly fell into a deep sleep!

When I think of the sentence above from Pema, dear Pema, about ordinary things, I am moved by how lovely it is to not need to wait for bolts of lightning to strike, or Ed McMahon to knock on the door (though I wouldn't argue with that), to see the miraculous in our everyday lives. That alone just makes me want to take a deep yoga breath and just BE. I smile way deep inside.

Noticing the mundane has always come easy to me. I laugh as I write that... it makes me sound a little simple. But it's true. The sky--look, see those clouds, they're fabulous this morning. How about the wheat out in the field--it's just gorgeous as it turns color. The breeze that cuts the heat--love it! Oh do we get to have cheese for lunch? Fabulous. (Almost like Dug the dog in Up... "Squirrel!")



For me (also a little like Dug, I suppose), the challenge often comes in slowing down long enough to notice the small, miraculous things around me. I've been working on that for many years now--how to slow down and be present, and yet still get things accomplished. For some reason, that balance can feel really delicate for me. Sometimes I feel like I have two speeds: flat-out, and idling... I'm either hopped up on speed or living in the hammock, streaming Netflix. You get my drift.

So, I work on it. And I work on it in such a lovely setting... we are so blessed to live in a beautiful part of the country, where the richness of nature is so evident in all of the seasons. Last night as I was finally planting some dahlia bulbs (they're already sprouted, so here's hoping I actually get a bloom or two this year), there was a storm against the mountains that rumbled a bit, and a rainbow appeared for a few minutes against the really dark cloud background as the sun set. And our sunsets here are always amazing, even if the day has been nasty, weather-wise. Nine nights out of ten, there's this sliver between the clouds and the horizon and the sun streams through and fills the whole valley with color. Last night it hit the wheat and the trees and everything just glowed. It was one of those moments where you're just happy to have been present.

I also get to see so many creatures wandering (or flying) by. Owen the owl still swoops over the yard when I mow near his perch. Last week a Monarch butterfly mowed part of the yard with me--I was just amazed at how it hovered by the noisy mower. I would have thought it would flee, but it stayed with me and reminded me of the little bird in Narnia, showing the way... And the bunnies, they're still  doing their thing (multiplying!). I saw one under the cherry tree yesterday morning--exactly where they should NOT be hanging out, way too close to the dogs--and shoofed it away before unleashing the hounds for the morning. The quail are loving the birdbath right now, and the goldfinches hang out at the feeders husband keeps filled for them. The pheasants are away right now--we usually have between two and three dozen in the fields, but either they've found easier squatting grounds (the wheat is so thick and high right now) OR they're actually in there hiding (which I doubt)... but they'll be back as soon as harvest happens. We are waiting and hopeful about hummingbirds... but haven't seen any yet this year. That's definitely one little piece of nature I'd love to have more of!

So the pausing and the noticing, in such pleasant surroundings... That's my Common Miracle for this week.

Go see Chel and her Common Miracles post for this week (we're somewhat on the same wavelength...), and how the project began...