I know the best place to sit to find the least bugs, the aspect of the hills and how the ecosystem will differ in each direction. I know these things deeply in my bones, and I am teaching them to my son. The flowers have become a part of him, and the mushrooms, the locusts, and where the crystals are. He is a true Coloradan and it shows in the way he walks the trails, how nimble his feet are, and how smoothly he moves over fallen logs. These are traits I didn’t have until I sought them out. But in his bones, they are. So much so that he doesn’t know what life would be like without them.
I noticed so many details and new shapes today, and new ways to draw flowers and patterns. And I realized that we never have a reason to get stuck or be in the same place, because there are a thousand new ways see and do things, and all we have to do is look with new eyes. Every day, all of the answers are right in front of us, it’s just that we can’t always see them.
Recently, I’ve been looking straight into the questions trying to find the answers. And recently, it was suggested to me that I try looking off to the side for a change. Kind of like when you are trying to see a constellation, and it’s clearer when you look slightly away from it.
I was astounded at the clarity. How, like the ocean, there are worlds out there we rarely look into. The flip side of our day – the night. I think this was the most stars I had ever seen in my life. And there, just above us, the arms of the milky way – just a reminder that this was only one galaxy we were looking at. We are so small.
Last night I dreamed that my entire family was tucked together in the most comfortable of beds, and in front of us, a window that filled up our entire vision from the edge of our bed, out into the great dark night sky. A miraculous view of a million stars, and the elegant movement of meteors streaming across the sky.