Saturday, May 8, 2010


Small moments have the power to change your life. Spontaneous conversations in passing have the profound ability to remind you of what you've always wanted, but have been too reluctant or afraid to go after. There are many individuals in this collection we call "society." Some we only observe, others we talk to briefly, some become "working relationships," others cherished connections.

This morning I woke up at 5 am. About two hours later than usual. The sunrise was beginning to make itself known, like the buds on the trees outside my front window that'll soon become big, green leaves that will whisper back and forth in the upcoming summer breeze. The air was cool, a piercing contrast against the "should-be" spring atmosphere. It's been like that in Colorado lately. We can't seem to quite let go of winter's harsh reality just yet. But despite the late snow showers, the cold wind and the frustrations in having to switch the thermostat from heat to a/c and back, Spring is still showing its signs of emergence. It can't be stopped. It won't be stopped, because that is its destiny. To bring visible life and vigor to what we experience as Nature.

Right now I am a little like Spring. Trying to make my authentic self visible. Following through on ideas and hopes that never quite formulated themselves until I was ready. A small, spontaneous conversation was all it took to remind me. To show me why I've felt unfulfilled. A harsh wind that said "wake up!" What you're doing and what you want are at opposite ends of each other. Who you are can't be stopped from displaying pieces of itself, even amidst a landscape of dry, brown covered fields.

It's time to dance, despite the fact that the notes haven't yet been written. The music will play itself into what it wants to be. One can only hope that it becomes something larger than what it originally thought it would. Like a song, we don't have to start out knowing exactly who we are. Each line, each chorus, each stanza, and even each note emerges as it should. Just like the seasons, each piece is somewhat predestined and seemingly unaware of its connection to the larger entity that it helps create.

Today I've written that first note and seen that first bud start to bloom on still barren branches. I might have to endure a few more harsh winds and a few more snowflakes before Spring finally arrives. But, even Winter won't be able to stop what's already there from emerging. Still hidden, yet inspired by the fact that it knows what it has to do.

What’s important is to not stop what already is from showing what it knows it should be.

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