We are spoiled by our frequent sunny days…it has been cloudy and raining for almost a solid month. While we are grateful for the rain and realize it may lessen the danger of Summer forest fires….I’m with some kids that a heard on a local news station say (presumably to the Sun), “If you are not shining by Monday, we will have to write a letter to your mother…”
Some days are diamonds.
I know what set John Denver’s Muse to whisper that line in his ear one day: Serendipitously hearing the prehistoric lowing of a sedge of Sandhill Cranes, wings beating languidly heavenward on some unexpected afternoon just before spring. Erie. Resplendent. An exclamation point in an otherwise ordinary day.
There’s something truly magical in bearing witness to the pulses of the planet—rhythms predating the human footprint by millennia. When the play unfolds above a landscape so completely altered by humanity that even the trees and plants appear as foreign bodies, well, you count your blessings.
Today was just such a diamond, leaving Rag’s and I chuckling about how absurd the whole of human existence is in the vastness of Gaia’s biological history. There, right above us, was an annual migration that had ebbed and flowed millions of times before. Yet, humanity fails to grok the magic unfolding in the skies above—if it did, traffic would come to a standstill and the buildings would empty, as all lean back to marvel.
Here’s hoping more of us begin to look up and listen.