The journey of meditation this morning reminds me of another kind of journey — hiking. When hiking, as when meditating, many things invite our attention — something imperfect, something in the way, something odd, something especially beautiful. We can let them all be.
The leaves are dancing — without our doing anything.
The light, or the darkness, or the present mixture, is as it is for this moment — and then it changes, and changes again.
The air, through and with our clothing, caresses the skin.
The pines, roses, honeysuckle, mint and their botanical cousins spray their fragrances with abandon.
The wind, a voice of nature, is speaking; maybe calling us to prayer.
In meditating as in hiking, it is fine, indeed natural, to stop and look around. There are always gifts of Life at hand, gifts worthy of notice, celebration, and gratitude. But they rarely require analysis, let alone action. We can let them all be.
