Another Gorgeous Day

Yes!  I love this weather.  I love being outside!

I started my day sitting on my front porch --"noticing".  Aaannnd--I actually wrote today.  I think it's been over a year since I've written anything new.  It was a real pleasure.

What I noticed about the mind set around writing is that, there is a certain frame of emotional well being that I have to be in, in order to see a potential story happening.  I have been living in a high stress environment, which is normal for a lot of people, I suppose, but it's not something I look for in my life.

However, today I realized that if I consciously disengage from the to do list spiraling around in my head...again, not really my consciousness of choice...but if I can disengage from that, I see magical things.  And they become stories.  My body remembers how to do it.  The only challenge is to remember to shift into it at odd moments.  Any moment.  Practice...practice.

So this was given to me...

And written down at 9 am on April 1, 2016...

The sun has been up for hours. 

But here-- 

It is only now rising above tree tops and shining through branches still bare of leaves. 

Now--before the dew dries from the grass and with the rays lighting up each individual droplet, standing on each individual tip of grass-- 

Only now, at this exact time when the sun shines on the ground, but is shaded from my face, can I see a wondrous network of shining webs.   

Each individual strand in motion moved by currents of air seems to pulse, much like I imagine neural pathways convey information within my own body.  

I ponder these threads which sparkle and shift with the ripple of grasses.   

To pull back in my vision brings this landscape of countless threads into sharper focus. 

This--so like a laser show pulsing to the bird chorus that plays in 'surround sound' all around me.   

I look closer and see webs waving on the air 

each emanating from a minute spider which could fit comfortably on the head of a small pin.   

They ride the currents on these web strands which act as sails to catch the gentlest breeze, no stronger than a baby's breath.    

My rooster crows   

Beginning a new movement in the bird symphony 

Supported by a gentle rhythmic clucking in the hen section of the orchestra.   

The webs fade from my vision as the sun climbs higher in our sky and the spell is broken.   

I rise from my seat to begin my work day and feel a gentle resistance.   

I turn my head in time to watch a web anchored to my shoulder stretch and break free as the silver thread captained by its tiny spider, goes sailing off 

Rippling on waves of air. 

--Rita Tortorello