Sacred Moments

It was an ordinary evening in May. With blue doggie-poop bags in hand, prepared, my friend and I took an after-dinner stroll with a canine, one expected to relieve herself, in tow. We headed for the short paved trail that meanders through a small wooded grove in Beverly Hills, Florida. We began an easy conversation about how our day, the third of my visit with her, had gone and what the rest of the week might bring.

The sudden stirring of a predator in low flight caught my attention and interrupted our ramblings. Startled, I questioned, “What was that?” A quick jerk of my head to the left, then right, then upward transported me from the tree-lined path I had trodden numerous times prior to an arborous sanctuary I had never entered before. I was captivated by the scene. My heart took a picture.

Spanish moss draped overhead from an umbrella-like configuration of branches, Mother Nature’s tresses against a twilight sky. Majestic and proud grandfather oaks held high, like trophies, three owls the size of cats. Limbs reached out to me like generous arms extending gifts of natural beauty, offering freely what no wealth could purchase. Fragrant pines surrendered their therapeutic aroma, and I inhaled deeply. My friend’s steps paused. The dog stood still. The owls, appearing dignified and regal, remained reverently hushed as if they too sensed the sacredness of the moment.

I relished the spectacularity and wordlessly asked, “What do you know, oh wise owls three? What do you see as you peer down from lofty heights with knowing eyes unblinking? Teach me your message.”

The sting of a mosquito’s bite and the jingle of the dog’s collar confirmed the transience of deep pleasure. It was time to continue our walk. As we headed back toward her home, my friend admitted, “If you were not with me, I would have been looking down at dog stuff. I would have missed this beauty.” 

Thinking of her words now makes me mindful of how much splendor we inadvertently deprive ourselves of regularly. Often, we allow routine to distract our attention away from the natural wonderment among us. We tend to be like moths to the flame of the proverbial candle we burn at both ends. We fail to look up from tending the tasks at hand. Daily, we blindly carry on unaware that there is a flitting wren whose melodic song will cease long before the din of Good Morning America. There is a rollicking child whose silent wish to romp with us will be outgrown in the blink of time’s eye. There is a setting sun whose orange flames will dissipate more quickly than those beneath the chicken we’re grilling.

It takes but a change of our perspective, a slight tilt of the head, a glance in the opposite direction, to be intrigued by beauty we had not noticed before. Take time to observe sacred moments, the fleeting ones.

Be enlightened!  ~ M