Interesting what walls are made out of.
I took my daughter and dog out for a scoot to the pigs the other day, between downpours. Autumn weather settling in, leaves and birds scattered in the sky. Clouds racing along beyond.
“I don’t like the wind”, she says. I then take time to point out that the crows are dancing in the wind and how fast the clouds are moving and how unusual and lovely that is. She reckoned that the clouds weren’t moving fast and she still didn’t like the wind. I was a little disappointed but on we went. Off to see the pigs.
Scooting is a thing to do. I didn’t want to be carrying the scooter and her so I was encouraging her to keep going in a hands-in-pockets-dad kind of way, one step removed. She then looked in a puddle and started playing with a spent firework cartridge in the muddy puddle. ‘What’s she doing now?”, went my thoughts, ‘Come on!” I said, impatiently.
After a moment I realised I had forgotten what I was there for. She was happy, the dog was happy and what was I doing? I was half way to the pigs and fretting about getting there. I stopped. I bent down and joined her in the puddle. The point faded and the pigs disappeared. I was lost in the puddle, in the beauty of watching this little human play puddle. Swirling mudcurrents, drips, splats and splashes became my moment. Little, beautiful things. I instantly recognised that I had let go. I remembered that every moment is amazing and just being with it is enough. This type of experience is new for me but becoming more frequent. I focussed on that seemingly meaningless fingersnap of time and felt its great importance. Who needed pigs?!
Today is writing day and the father-in-law dropped in last night. I read a blog post by a friend this morning which inspired me. I thought I wouldn’t get around to mine and felt a bit obliged to sit and eat toast and chat when I should be exploring my nature connection and writing. We talked writing for a bit. He said, “what about people connection?” I told him I’d been writing about that too, whilst secretly wanting to be in the woods, sat on a fallen tree trunk like Buddha. Eyes closed, mind open. Then again it hit me. Here I was not being here! Straight away I was inspired. I knew where it would take me. No thinking needed.
We then sat and I’m sure I felt some energy was swirling around us as we all acknowledged how inspiration is the moment. He said “You can’t go looking for it” and he was right. I understood the value of that moment and really felt the human connection, the warmth, the privilege of being there with people I love, and I revelled in every word we spoke. They were anchors in a futureless existence. I write.