I walk outside to check the weather, and there are birds staring at me from the grass.
I look to the sky and a solo bird flies into the frame and sits directly in my view.
I step outside sleepily to watch the sun rise and birds are already perched on the fence and power lines singing their tunes.
And every time I see them I keep waiting for them to soar. You know the moment? When they move from still to up, up and away. With purpose, with direction, with momentum, rhythm... with power and energy but with grace.
I keep waiting. And they keep on staying still. Fly, I think. Fly! Show me how you can soar.
Eventually I walk away.
And eventually I come to the realisation that we don't need bold, dramatic or "something to talk about" action to soar. That we can soar immersed in stillness and in presence, in peace of mind and in heart. And sometimes without a word spoken, or written. Without a movement outward, but with expansiveness within.
xx
{Soaring - how I soar, what I need to soar, to stay present, and to be the best me - has been on my mind this week, as has gratitude and the joy and presence that can come from creating a ritual that both honours and nourishes us. A lot to think about, and a lot I want to write and something I need to share... for another post soon! This week I feel most grateful for time - time alone and time together, and time to just be. Elisa x}
What are you most grateful for today? And what makes you soar?
I planned on sneaking away at 10.45am today to the Remembrance Day service where we live. I didn't plan on having a three year old and one year old with me. But that's how it turned out.
And I'm glad because it was nice to hold my little girls' hand while I cried.
It doesn't take much to make me cry. I cry at the happiest of times. But something happens when I'm at a commemorative service like this. The emotion wells and stirs inside me.
Maybe because I can't fathom war. Maybe it's the silence.
I tried to explain to my three year old while we were there.
The end of the First World War, wasn't going to cut it. Nor was to remember the soldiers who have passed while serving our country.
So I went with: "There was a really big fight and everyone was sad, then the fight ended and everyone was happy and at peace again. So we're going to celebrate the peace with lots of other people".
"To a party? Will there be candles?" she asked.
"No, not exactly. But there will be a flame, and flowers and a trumpet too".
And so she watched closely at all the people there, and asked for a red flower and when it would be her turn to play the trumpet.
And she held my hand, and I held hers.
I let my tears free when I heard these words: We remember those who returned, wounded in body, mind and soul.
And I gave thanks for peace. And love. And a hand to hold mine.
xx
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