This past week I received responses from two of you who have inspired me to be more mindful of each moment of our journey.
Alberta foothills lover Lee-ann Harder wrote us a poem. She’s quite the fan of Irish philosopher/poet John O’Donohue, who said: "Landscape recalls you into a mindful mode of stillness, solitude, and silence where you can truly receive time."
But first, some amazing sky photos from Gary and Sandy Kooistra. They took these from their deck in the Vistas of Gleneagles. Such moments remind them of the opening of Psalm 19, they said: “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork …. There is no speech, nor are there words … yet their voice goes out through all the earth.”
Pause for a few moments over the accompanying images. What do you hear in the stillness?
The opening to Lee-ann’s poem “Will You See This Day?” makes me wonder whether she may have been enjoying the same dusk and dawn moments Gary and Sandy photographed. I’ll let her words speak for themselves:
The birds that delight in singing you awake
The refreshing fragrance of the new morning
The mixture of yellows and oranges on the horizon
The cloud-spattered sky-blue arena above you
The choreography of green leaves dancing in unison on trees
The colours of the summer flowers
Will you see this day?
The parade of people on their way to work
The people at work
The server at lunch
The person on the sidewalk who found the courage to live another day
The people on your run or dog-walk in the park
Will you see this day?
The faces of those you meet
The eyes of those you listen to
The words spoken and unspoken
The stillness as it comes and goes
Will you see this day?
Will you take time to greet and close today?
Will you fully consume it or simply assume it?
Will you regret it or deeply enjoy it?
Will you mostly long all day to be somewhere else?
Where else could you possibly be, to see this day?
