Monday, February 16, 2009
I sat on the rocks next to that cobalt chair for over a half an hour. The entire time, a seagull stood on his own little piece of rock behind me. He did not move. He observed me, I observed him...but he stayed as long as I stayed.
I finally got up, gathered my things and passed him as I wandered back to the beach. He still didn't move.
I paused and turned to look at him once more, this still creature, and slowly moved toward him to take a picture while a stream of sunlight seemed to pass right through him.
I'd like to think we had an understanding, him and I. For a brief time, we were one in the same. I wasn't human, he wasn't bird... we were two living beings sharing an ordinary moment in time that didn't seem quite so ordinary. While the world kept hurtling through space, while the waves swelled and receded from the shore, while the airplanes and satellites and comets tore holes through the sky, while all the people and birds and ants busily carried on with their many important tasks, we shared a space of stillness.
He stayed until I was gone.
And he continues to stay within me.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Look what I stumbled upon in my wanderings?
Someone has placed a chair on the edge of the world.
A perfect place to view all other universes, for when you look out beyond the edge of the world your scope of things is limitless.
You can see the ancient histories of the oceans from here...the expansive futures of the skies...and the infinite present moment of the horizon where past and future collide.
Past, present, future....which universe would you direct your telescope?
If I were to sit in this old cobalt chair nestled high on the rocks, I would point mine straight at that sliver of a horizon line, shining like a golden thread, catching the light of this very moment. I would focus carefully, allowing that light to fill my eyes and fill my soul.
It is a beautiful view.