Everyday Rarities

I walked out onto our deck the other day and noticed Ayla, our black and white cat, staring reverentially at the sliding glass door. I turned to see what had caught her attention and was greeted by this Walking Stick. I watched it with much the same reverential attention as Ayla, turning to my cat to make eye contact with her and let her know I appreciated that we were sharing a special moment together.

As we watched, the insect kept crawling across the glass, onto the wood siding, and eventually across the whole side of the house. He was up pretty high, and I worried that he might fall, but I couldn't do anything about that, except to send him my good wishes and prayers for a safe journey. When he turned the corner I walked around to the other side of our house, but could not find him again. 

When I looked up Walking Sticks to learn a little bit about them, I was surprised to discover that they are not at all rare, but they are masters at disguising themselves. People who make it their business to know about them claim that these insects are probably right in front of our eyes quite often. They are so good at blending in with actual sticks, trees, and leaves that we can look right at them without ever seeing them.

Those of you who know me, will understand how this idea tickled me. I am fond of the fact that we can glean wisdom from the world around us if we will only take the time and make the effort to open our eyes, ears, and minds. It is all too easy to miss the gifts of each and every moment of our lives when we are caught up in the busyness of all there is to do. We take ourselves pretty seriously, and so it can be difficult to slow down and notice what can seem to be insignificant details.

We like to think that a cursory glance can tell us enough about a place, a person, an article, or anything, really. But the truth is that taking our time to really look, and to ponder, giving ourselves enough time to discern the difference between a twig and an insect for instance, is a deeply meaningful way to make our way through a moment, a day, a lifetime.

and off he goes...

 

Be Here Now

 

There is such a profusion of beauty in the natural world. The other day Gary and I took a hike on Endless Brook Trail, which is near our home in Vermont. We came upon these flowers at the beginning of the trail. They arrested my attention, as the person who planted and tends them was most likely hoping they would, and I am grateful for that. All too often I plunge from one thing to the next, checking things off of my "To Do" list as I turn my attention to the next thing on said list.

These flowers stopped me in my tracks (tracks that were heading rather quickly and single-mindedly to the summit of the trail), and I am glad they did. They reminded me that it is not just the summit that is of value. The means by which we get to the goal of our climb matters too. In this case, the trail itself and everything it contained was worth noticing. For instance, the name of the trail comes from the brook that runs along it for awhile. The water goes underground for long stretches and then pops up again so it seems to be endless.

As a result of slowing down, Gary and I took in the beauty of these flowers and all of the bees, butterflies and other insects who were visiting them as well. A little further on, we saw a frog in the pond, well-camouflaged among the lily pads he was resting on. Every few steps along the trail, mushrooms of various wild colors caught our attention. They ranged in hue from pale white to yellow, from orange to bright red, and from the tiniest perceptible dot to saucer-size platters scattered among the leaves, roots and ferns.

Of course, we did reach the lookout at the top of the hill after a good while climbing, and the view was nice to take in. Gary and I sat on a fallen tree in what little shade we could find and munched on snacks of walnuts and red grapes along with sips of refreshing water as we looked out over Lake Saint Catherine. Far below we saw boats circling lazily, and above them, some raptors cruising the skies.

On the way down, I stopped at the stream and took off my shoes, sitting with the water as it moved by, and watched the play of sunlight reflected from the water onto the bank across from me. Small fish swam near me, checking out my toes while some curious water creatures who looked like sticks with wiry appendages moved with jerks across the sandy bottom.

Ram Dass is known for his philosophy and book titled "Be Here Now". It is a phrase that I thought I understood when I was first introduced to it, but my earliest impression was just scratching the surface of its possible meanings. I like to think I am getting better at truly understanding it as time goes on. Days like this one, when I can reflect on so many small, interesting and beautiful things that captured my attention tell me I just might be getting closer to not just comprehending what it means to Be Here Now, but actually living it.