Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Not hard to find, but nearly impossible to hold for long
Last night, I dreamed of the forest. Clear streams winding through ancient trees, with happy children laughing on the banks. My uncle Chester fished in the shallows as I looked on smiling. I was wishing that I could have allowed my son to spend his entire childhood there, oblivious to the troubles of civilized life.
I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock, well-rested. I'd slept through the night without awakening for the first time in weeks, and the vaguely frenetic fog that tends to follow me when I'm tired had lifted. I knew that I had too many things to focus on today, and that I wouldn't be any less frantic today than yesterday. But I could think clearly. I could start my day with a quiet mind. And I was grateful.
My life is a good one. I am fortunate in ways I can't even begin to count. But sometimes, it takes a simple, delicate moment - like waking up from a peaceful dream - to put all of the peripheral noise in perspective so that I can be appropriately grateful.
Perspective. It's like the sound of laughter in the wind, sometimes.
I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock, well-rested. I'd slept through the night without awakening for the first time in weeks, and the vaguely frenetic fog that tends to follow me when I'm tired had lifted. I knew that I had too many things to focus on today, and that I wouldn't be any less frantic today than yesterday. But I could think clearly. I could start my day with a quiet mind. And I was grateful.
My life is a good one. I am fortunate in ways I can't even begin to count. But sometimes, it takes a simple, delicate moment - like waking up from a peaceful dream - to put all of the peripheral noise in perspective so that I can be appropriately grateful.
Perspective. It's like the sound of laughter in the wind, sometimes.
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