Some times, the sky glows.  Some times, it doesn’t.  Last week did not glow.  It was a week touched by rejection.  It wasn’t a bad week.  It just didn’t glow.

So when I leave for my walk this morning, I’m looking for the glow.

The trail stretches before me like a ribbon of asphalt cutting its way between the carefully planted shrubs and the careless weeds.  Shrubs and weeds are married in a union that can not be separated.  The gardener in me wants to complain about the weeds.  The traveler in me knows they are inevitable.  Could there be a message here in between the trail, weeds, sky and shrubs?

I struggle to empty my mind to receive what ever it is I need to hear.  I concentrate on my breathing, the forward momentum of my feet, the warmth of the sun.  Soon, the trail whispers, “Step aside.  You are getting in your own way.”

This isn’t what I expected to hear.  I try to argue, “What exactly does that mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about. . “, the words say with a wry smile.

I sigh and admit, “Yes, I do.  Yes, I do.”

I being to repeat the simple words.  “Step aside.  Step aside.  Step aside.”

They travel in a continuous loop, their sound, my locomotion.

I concentrate on my stride, on the weeds along the trail and on the bead of sweat that trickles from under my hat and down my brow.  I think about last week.  Rejection was the theme.  What can I learn from it and the idea of stepping aside?

I turn the theme upside down and inside out.  As much as I want to take it personally, I can not.  The occasion rude response was based in others fear.  I understand fear.  Fear and I have slept together.  There, between the sheets in a restless frenzy of 3 a.m. worry, fear and I have become intimate partners.

Might other peoples fear hide behind their rejection?  The faces of people who do not walk my trail slip before me.  I look at them with empathy.  I bless them one by one and step aside.  This isn’t about me.

“Step aside.  Step aside.”

The cares and concerns of last week begin to float above me on the trail.  I note the weeds as a gentle summer breeze plays with their flowers and leaves.  There in the bright flowers of the weeds, I begin to see a subtle glow.  Maybe I can learn to see the glow as it hides behind rejection, fear, discouragement.   Some times I catch a glimpse as I step aside.  Some times the sky glows when I’m not looking.

I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


I am reading

The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
0 / 170 Pages