A yellow house sits on the corner. Tidy and well kept. I know the couple who own it - in little bits of interaction over the nearly 14 years I’ve lived here. Small exchanges.
I know more about them from their yard signs.
Once, years ago when I was considering a neighborhood gathering I mentioned to the woman that I was hoping they could come. She responded by saying they probably could, but I should also invite another couple (I’d never met) and she would provide me their contact info.
It wasn’t a casual Oh, if you’re wanting to meet more people you may wish to include so and so. It was more like a directive.
I mentally took her off the invite list.
In one exchange with her husband, he walked over to say hello while I was planting some things in a front yard bed. He wanted me to know he was appreciative of my efforts; it was good for the neighborhood. He then left-turned to complain about another neighbor’s house - a couple who weren’t so good about their yard.
The complaint came with a belabored sigh and conspiratorial what we have to put up with expression.
I responded with something along the lines of, “I don’t know how well you know Joe and Colleen, but he’s very ill, and I don’t think she’s in great health either.” (Not said but surely implied: I don’t think the state of their yard is about you.)
He was soon heading back home.
Waves and nods since then.
They’ve finally gotten rid of most of the yard signs that only recently littered the street-side of their house, keeping just one that lets everyone know THEIR America is all about unity. The irony of it can still make me shake my head.
This morning from the chair in my office I watched the morning light turn the yellow house a more appealing apricot color. Softer and warmer tones, as morning light graced it. It’s a brief show, and I try not to miss it - this gentle splash of light first thing that transforms familiar scenes.
Morning light is a common miracle, its effects are never the same. Subtle in its transformative ability.
I feel it’s an invitation to see the world renewed, refreshed.
Birds - even in winter - accompany nights breaking into day, welcoming those first rays of light; greeting them in song, as if they know our very existence depends on its appearance.
Those birds are telling us something.
Receiving the light of a new day isn’t just a nice thing to do. It’s a deeply sane thing to do.
We get so easily caught up in the world - especially now - and of course we need to be aware of what’s happening. Just not to the exclusion of Nature’s central role in it.
The persistence and consistence of our Natural world is always beckoning a deeper remembrance. We do belong here, on this planet, and while chaos may reign for awhile longer, Nature continues to do what it does.
Perpetually triumphant that way.
A tidy house is nice, but it won’t keep its inhabitants from a financial collapse (if that’s coming) or thought-numbing parasitic-like mind-viruses or any other number of unseen challenges.
So many of our efforts to shape our lives won’t mean much in the tsunami of change coming.
The lunacy in all the ways we make ourselves “better then” someone else - Whoosh. Gone the instant you need food and your annoying neighbor has some.
Attention and adherence to the rules and dictates of this world, won’t matter.
Who cares about political affiliation when survival is on the table?
I was wondering how, as we continue our unraveling, my neighborhood will do. If we’ll drop the superficial differences, and come together more simply as human beings in close proximity.
We’ll need each other.
I will have to look past my judgements and how I have seen ‘them’ as part of the problem. They will have to do the same with me. If we are to help and support each other.
We will have to find common ground and fortunately that easy. We stand on it every day.
Before there were swaths of the earth claimed by countries and kings; before there were governments and their systems of governance, before political parties and ideologies, philosophies and religions, before all of these things, there was Life, an animating Force and a place where that Force could take form.
Earth and us. It’s still here.
Aligning to Nature is aligning to Life. The Source that created all of this. All of us.
How do I know?
A little bird told me.
Thanks for reading.
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A beautiful read Kathleen, thank you. Day before yesterday I looked out my third floor window and saw a robin sitting on a branch looking right at me. He tarried a moment then flew away. My heart gladdened. Ah, Spring!
This worked well for me. I have started to think I will stop using Substack. All I saw today for the first half an hour was political stuff, some "for" some "against." But as I said your post today worked well for me.