We are in the midst of winter here, alternating between brilliant sun, freezing temps and blustery wind. I love the stark landscape and quiet of this time of year, especially after the frenetic activity of the holidays. It seems to encourage me to take a softer view of all that I encounter.
Several nights ago, my dear husband’s snoring caused me retreat to one of my children’s now empty bedroom, again. As my head hit the pillow, I was struck by an image on the ceiling that actually caused me to gasp in awe. There, dancing with the wind outside, were shadows of tree limbs gently intertwined with each other. I was mesmerized by this and reluctant to close my eyes, lest I miss the owl or hawk I was sure would alight there. I was curious about where the light was coming from that could create this shadow art, but not enough to get me to come out from under the covers where I was so cozy to look. This was entrancing and soothing at the same time and I wonder if it was because this season invites me to be quiet and slower.
So last night, as I again ended up in my daughter’s bedroom, I looked up and once more was presented with a similar, stunning image. How many nights has this been here and I didn’t notice it? What else am I not seeing because of my need for speed and “getting things done”? The gift of this image is one I hope to bring forth when I realize I am on a treadmill that is setting me up to miss the beauty of these simple, everyday encounters.
