I have to admit, (physically and metaphorically) I’m shooting most of my photos in the wind. As I walk along the gravel path, the wildflowers seem to pop up, blooming as proof that it can be done, even in the strongest of winds that race directions through the hills. Some barely petaled, they still have the audacity of hopeful beauty, and I think, if I could just catch them mid sway, it would be like capturing the wind…and if I did, in fact, capture that wind, it would find its way into my heart, spreading limb to limb, and even against all forces of the natural and unnatural, I too, would dance.
So even as the sun blinds the screen of my phone, I point and shoot, not knowing until much later what will appear. Looking at yesterday’s photos from the comfort of home, I have to swivel in my chair. I smile at the blurred backgrounds — the forgotten hardships — and see the dancing petals. So fragile. So strong. So beautiful. And I smile, knowing today, it just might be me, who flowers in all of this wild. Me, barely petaled, who dances in the wind.
It’s only Tuesday morning and I have already underestimated two significant projects this week. This unknowing plays a significant part in me actually getting things done.
I worked for nearly the whole day on our “catch-all’ closet, releasing a majority of the things that really didn’t need to be caught. I arranged plastic folders and papers. I went through all the Christmas decorations, taking out such items as broken ornaments, the BB gun targets, the grip strength tool and the sombrero. (I never would have imagined that the one thing my French husband and my Minnesota grandma had in common was the inability to throw out the closet sombrero.) I broke down and recycled the random boxes that seemed so useful while opening the gifts. I rearranged and dusted and vacuumed. Several hours and two full garbage bins later, the closet was clean. Voilà, as we say.
Fueled by the momentum, and a head full of “how hard could that be?”, I decided to paint my bathroom yesterday. By the time I finished cleaning, scrubbing and dusting, I was already tired, but there was no turning back. Were the ceilings always this high? With a ladder and extension rollers, and a brush I taped to some sort of pole I found next to the pool cue and hockey stick collection in the garage, I stretched and reached and sweated my way through coat one. Muscled my way through thoughts of, ironically, “what was I thinking!” Then struggled my way through coat two.
I love the results of both projects. I mention it only to remind myself of the real lesson here. I have been guilty through the years of praying for answers. Oh, how desperately we want to know the answers. When really, the thing that so often gets me through is just this blind, adorable, audacious hope. So I remind myself, again, and for the first time, this “unknowing” that you’re so afraid of, let it go…look around and begin…my heart whispering in both ears, “How hard could it be?”
We went to Margaux’s dance recital. The young girls clearly ranged from elegant to stumbling. It was easy to tell them apart, but not if you looked at the parents and grandparents in the audience. Everyone beamed and clapped – to them, us, there was no difference, only the beauty of the dance.
During my college summer vacations, I worked for the Recreation Department. In the mornings at the high school gym, I helped teach gymnastics to very young girls. Some were there because they had potential, and others maybe just to get a grip on a slight weight problem. Either way, I spent the summer getting kicked in the head spotting wayward aerials. Just as with dance, we held an exhibition (and I use the term loosely) at the end of the summer. Some had improved. Others still barely fit into their pink leotards, but again, everyone beamed. They were a part of something bigger than themselves.
Children have it right. This daring to be imperfect. This courage to attempt. This audacity to just enjoy! I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want anyone to lose this. I suppose to make this happen we have to continue to see the world with our hearts. To see others, strangers, in the same light as we do these misstepping young dancers, these fumbling gymnasts. What if we saw each other in this way? Wouldn’t that be something to applaud! Something to make us all beam!
Maybe today, we can all try a little harder to find our way to this light. Enjoy!
