Sometimes we walk on empty.
We may walk for miles and notice very little. Perhaps, as this morning, a bunch of buttercups standing tall on a bank or a squirrel running up to its dray, and even these moments are observed and not really registered.
Yet they can create a calm, a preparation for later when even the creak of a door or the falling of dry eucalyptus leaves onto a table draw our attention in to the moment and we see that the tree’s gently swaying boughs, dappled light and shaded bows have a meaning all their own.
And then there is the simple, unexpected moment of realisation – that we are guests, passing visitors in this world – which prompts the following musings:
We are guests
Passing through a world
That is old beyond understanding
We have no right to the whole story
We’ve not the time to hear it
Instead we are offered
Mere glimpses of truth
Each one of life’s moments
Holds more than we can process
Whilst we may weave them into stories
We do well to remember
That we act only
On imperfect knowledge
And the stories we tell
Are never as rich
As those we are told.
Have you had a moment of realisation? Can you describe it?