This early spring has more than most delivered the fine wine of creation's bloom to my thoughts. I find myself with eyes that want to listen more than see, and to hear through the light of life presenting itself in all it's glorious delivery. The old oak is greening now with starts of leaves in the highest reaches of its crown, the wine-red stars of buds on the Japanese Maple begin to unfurl from their cocoon, like dancers slowly unfolding their limbs to a low upwell of music, each morning more of them appear to fill the stage. The first steps of beginning anew, one step at a time.
Last evening C and I took Manna to the beach. I remember the first time not long ago, when all was new for her. A creature tasting the first food from Earth's morning table, which we sometimes take for granted. The white sand different from the black loam she was used to, the crash of waves and the unfurling skim of surf and foam running up to her and chasing her back up the sand. She, not wanting to go near this strange blue thing alive and beckoning. And yet, over the days she became one to the wet and salty rhythm. Testing it with a paw or two, tasting it, a back and forth dance of combat at first, then giving in to the luxury of its wildness.
Now, she and I find ourselves running together knee deep in a frothy dance of celebration. The water expoloding around us as we run, and I can't keep myself from laughing out loud. It all starts and finishes one step at a time.
And so this morning, after the sky knows the first watercolor brush of light, we will go outside and listen to the changing pallet of Spring, watch intently the upwelling music of life, and feel the binding crossroads of time that link all of us, and all creation together. Striding into a new world, just one step at a time.