We live on a ridge with an unobstructed view across the valley to the hills on the other side. That view is the first thing I set my eyes upon every morning. Sometimes I get lost in it.
From where I sit, sipping soy milky frothy coffee in the comfort of our sleigh bed, I see the eastern sky. At this time of the year I can watch the sun rise.
I’m thinking about the danger of such a view: the temptation it creates to always look out there, and the belief it enforces that all which is praiseworthy is in the distance.
Yesterday, I sat on the floor with a dusting rag, getting into the nooks and crannies of the feet of our dresser (an area I don’t pay enough attention to), and considered the gift of having such a fine piece of furniture, and how blessed I am to be healthy enough to get down on the floor to dust it.
I have to pay attention to find the extraordinary in ordinary things. Maybe that makes the wisdom of such moments even more valuable.