Spending time outside, especially in wild spaces, has a balancing effect on me and tilts me toward greater equilibrium on all counts. This past week has been a time of grief and reflection, gratitude and solitude, and a time of standing in my body where it is in time and place. I'm more visually acute; the world seems more beautiful than ever: shimmering, fresh, original.
At the kitchen sink today I looked out into the back yard and turned on the faucet, and then I saw it: a great blue heron, flying low, rising up and over the dogwood tree directly over my field of vision and carrying my breath away with it. Leaning in to gaze at the invisible stream of its flight path, a second miracle revealed itself: a lone hummingbird, holding her own high above the bamboo thicket like a hovering helicopter scouting out earthly events.