An Ordinary Day

A friend’s inspiration-of-the-day message suggested finding one thing to do that could make you feel fully alive and then doing it.

That’s harder than it sounds. I try to be fully alive in every moment, and I’ve had some peak experiences: meditating on Hauyna Picchu and playing my violin at sunset on the walls of Carcassonne. Those extraordinary moments couldn’t be duplicated at home. So what could I do today?

I pondered the question as I took a walk. In my own yard, setting out, I cherished the purple irises that my mother planted, the solitary bluebonnet, coreopsis, spiderwort in various shades of lavender and orchid. As I walked, I added wild grasses, with their nodding seed heads; Indian paintbrush; and the fresh green of new foliage to the list. I reveled in the cool breeze, hid from it when it grew too strong.

The cardinal’s call pierced me through while the white-winged dove’s sound soothed. Blue jays, mockingbirds, an occasional hawk, unseen but voicing their presence.

What one extraordinary thing could I do this day to feel utterly alive?

I pulled a patch of weeds in my yard, relishing the moment when the roots relinquished their hold on the earth. I watched as a blue jay hunted for food, swiped his beak on a branch, shook his tail feathers and looked at me through a bandit’s mask. I sat on the porch in the mild afternoon, dark chocolate melting down my throat, marveling at the depth of blue of the sky. I laughed when my little tabby let loose her wildcat growl and smiled as she purred when I brushed her.

What makes me feel fully alive? Being in the creative flow, which I haven’t been in several years. I haven’t blogged in those years, either, so maybe what I’m doing right now is a start.

I mixed up a batch of muffins with all the care and healthful ingredients I could muster and took some to my handyman neighbor, who’s always fixing things for me. For supper, I savored delicately broiled salmon.

I never arrived at one thing would make me feel fully alive. It was a thoroughly ordinary day, filled with extraordinary moments.

This entry posted in Garden, Gratitude, Meditation, Philosophy. Bookmark the permalink. 

4 Responses to An Ordinary Day

  1. Becky Pakebusch says:

    Thank you.
    I read this post while enjoying the new mowed grass in my back yard. Watching the humming birds drinking suger water, my doxie running around the pool barking at fantasis, listening to the doves lonsome calls. Thank you for this perfect post.

  2. Roger Summers says:

    Thank you for seeing these extraordinary moments.

    And letting us see them with you.

    Keep writing.

    Keep blogging.

    All the while bringing us more fully alive along with you.

  3. Mike says:

    That was an intriguing insight to life.
    Thank You for sharing it with us Carol.
    Mike

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