This morning, while feeling a bit tired due to interrupted sleep, I occasionally looked out the window, taking momentary breaks from my task at hand. The natural focal points are tall hills, dark with evergreen trees who blanket them. No matter how many times I see these familiar hills and tress I still think they are beautiful, graceful, and strong. The next time I look out the window the hills are no where to be found. A thick fog rolled in–wow, how powerful that damp white air is, those bits of moisture hiding the hills, drastically remaking the landscape.
A bit later I look again and see fog has danced away; the familiar hills are back again. I tilt my head and look up, raising my eyebrows to see as much of Grandfather Sky as I can.
I see how the shades of white, gray, and even little wispy bits of light blue have rearranged themselves. They look different from a few moments ago. I’m amazed at how much change the sky can hold. Maybe I can, too.
I sit back in my chair and ponder what I’ve witnessed this morning. How much change and stability I’ve seen out my window.
A single bird, likely a crow, glides through the sky in the distance. “What’s the lesson, Crow?” I wonder.
I sit back and watch again. Fog gathers, just a little bit, making the air look hazy, like the hills are wearing a veil.
What wonderful teachers our More than Human Relations are. I feel blessed, comforted, and hopeful despite this time of fear and illness in so many communities, and the trying changes to schedules and routines; all of it is upheaval that often brings exhaustion and disorientation.
Perhaps this fog-time of life can teach us to see the beauty, movement, and new possibilities in ourselves and in our lives. As I write this, fog is dancing back up, showing me yet another view out my window. What a beautiful teacher, dancing gracefully in change.
Enjoy more lessons from our More than Human Relations in Michelle’s latest book, Huckleberries & Coyotes.