Have you ever felt a strong desire to experience wanderlust, connect to the larger world, relate to different cultures and experiences, or perhaps see through a lens disparate from your daily one?  Most of us may never have the opportunity to breathe in diverse lifestyles or traverse beyond where we were born. But, even if it meant never traveling outside the region you always lived in, would you be open to an expanding heart, a different voice, and an interesting or exciting life twist?

I woke up around 5:30 am as the sun rose to greet our part of the planet with another day of light, made my tea, and went outside to write by candlelight. At 6:40, a rooster began crowing, then as the low, mournful sound of the train whistle bellowed down in The Valley, a choir of birds joined their voices in “The Song of The Morning.” I could still see the moon in the gray-blue sky through the branches of the locust tree.

Time does not stand still. There are so many significant moments that I try to freeze-frame and catalog; countless experiences I want to hang onto forever—stored away in a hidden place, safe from the public, but there whenever I want to call them back to me.

Years fly by in the blink of an eye as the universe repeats her tempo, often disrupted by floods, fires, avalanches, hurricanes, or abject evil, prejudice, and hatred. I don’t yearn for prosaic, but I wish that, sometimes, there wouldn’t be as much to process through, jump over, or plod under.

Back to wanderlust; at the end of this week, I will be traveling with family to Yellowstone, which may not seem, to some, as exotic as leaving our country but will be another beautiful experience, not simply as a spectator but being immersed in it. I don’t want to squander my precious time; there is no value in ruminating about the hastening hours. After all, what am I so afraid of losing? And will that fear change anything? (I believe the answer is “no.”)

As I write, I’m struck by the magnificence of a flower on the table. I study it, overwhelmed by the beauty of its simplicity and the wonder of its complexity. I think about the women I’ve met who have left imprints on me because of who they are—grace, beauty, and joy—and ponder how often they’ve experienced life’s treks.

Sometimes we notice alterations, but often, we miss it all in the blur of life. The earth is spinning at 1000 miles per hour; we don’t feel it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not occurring. Life is happening around us, even when we’re not consciously participating or aware. Too often, we’re standing still in a world in motion.

I desire to be a change agent, not simply a change-watcher, but, in my humanness, I’m aware of limitations: I cannot prevent those I love from being hurt, protect my friends in life’s violent storms, alter the course of history nor stop the passing of time; there is only change. Begging time to slow down doesn’t work, yet I sometimes mourn as the now too quickly becomes the past.

So, the hopeful spirits sing as impulses of truth course through us and move us to action while God-perceptive lessons are being taught at nature’s feet. Our planet continues to circle the sun. The moon, now invisible to me—not gone, simply waiting for its next show continues—orbits our earth. And, so, a new day has begun. The question—for all of us—is what will we do with it?

May today bring awareness of your incredible value right where you are.
May you know that you are loved.
Kay

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