Would that I stopped to stare.
The wind plays its symphony upon those “lifeless” things: trees, leaves, grasses. The sheep and cows hear it – it is the white noise of their days. They seem quite content with it. Do they applause, or leave that to the swaying trees?
Wake. Pray. Read. Shower (well, sometimes). Granola and Yogurt. Birkenstocks on. Sound of the pavement during my “commute”. Work.
The sound of rushing streams. Night and day hold no difference for them, the stars are always there. They pass rocks and other currents, they flow on in commute to a new destination. What makes water have that sound, and why do we say they’re rushing?
People everywhere – the same people as yesterday. Chaos. Corporate Prayer. Some children dance. Some children doze. Whiteboards. Phonics. Work.
Boughs, woods, squirrels, streams – these are not the only things at which to stop and stare.
Darkness turns to light during the time I pray. It reflects across the Lake. My prayers are consummated when I kneel beside naughty little boys. Laughing eyes of learning children. Penitent eyes of punished ones. The frustrations that prove humanity. Trying, and being tried, by that band of friends called “co-workers”.
Would that I stopped to stare, to see Beauty in my neighbors. To embrace that smile that waits in my student’s eyes. Would that I stopped to stare, but not as sheep or cows – that is for special days.