Today I Found A Nickel

Having recently purged myself of some creativity-killing negativity, I feel focused and ready to get back to doing what I do-giving you, o gentle reader, visions of subtle beauty, glimpses of the things that go by mostly unnoticed by the rest of the world, because I feel it, and it’s important, and if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t bother.  It’s the appreciation of these small wonders that make dealing with the big, scary stuff easier.  Imagine if life was nothing more than a long series of the big, scary stuff-you know, the world the media and the politicians want you to believe is the only world there is.  On bad days, I’m irritated by this stance, but on good days, I can see the humour of it, and I can turn my back to it, and I can get down to the serious business of enjoying my brief time upon this rock.  Lately, those good days have been dominated by the urge to paint our town park onto a trash barrel, so I had to redirect some of that into the random observances that have been staggering around my brain, waiting for my attention. 

But for a few brave standouts trying to defy the will of nature, most of the trees have shed their adornments, leaving smatterings of deep chestnut and dull umber.  We are past the copper, brass, and rust hues, past the endless rain of leaves drifting down into calico piles, past the sun beaming uncomfortable heat waves upon my back while walking in the afternoons.  Unlike some, I don’t get the melancholy this time of year.  Somehow, I’ve managed to develop a deep respect and kinship with starkness, and can see the beautiful, intricate lacework of the skeletal branches of the barren trees without a sense of sorrow for the passing of one season to another.  Winter doesn’t alarm or depress me.  I had to keep to myself about that this past winter, but I vow not to deny my true nature any longer.  As miserable as everyone was during the endless frigid blizzards of last year, I secretly danced many a jig in the privacy of my home, whilst maintaining my mumbly-face to the rest of my fellow villagers.  I have never had a happier winter, and I will feel the same about this one as well, regardless of the severity or gentility of it.  It’s not the weather conditions that dictate my emotions; it’s the changing, the passing of time, the watching of all around me moving in its magically woven pattern. 

If details escape your notice, every single day is exactly the same.  You don’t see the changing, and it soon becomes difficult for you to change.  We weren’t designed to live that way.  We were built for evolution, growth, progression.  Our senses were made to take in the world around us with utter clarity, our brain meant to process, to churn, to twist and turn and spin and ponder and wonder and be busy.  We are beings in need of stimulation to keep us going, keep us reaching and rising to new levels of awareness.  Everyday life is not going to hand these things over readily.  You have to seek them out with great passion, no matter how tired you are, how weary you feel, how burned out you’ve become, no matter who or what tries to stand in your way.  It only takes seconds to notice something miraculous, seconds to process what you’ve seen and to file it away for future musing.  Sometimes, the greyest, ugliest November sky will open up in one small area, and the sun will stream down upon a hillside bathed in a coppery glow from late fall trees, and you could be driving by it, distracted by the monotony and misery of the day, and you’ll miss it because you lost sight of what you were put here to do.  Beauty is not necessary for survival; it’s a gift.  It doesn’t matter where the gift came from, an anonymous donor, or the natural course of events.  Beauty is important because it slows the pace of life down just long enough to force you to remember that you are alive.  As a wordsmith, I know the worn-out triteness of the phrase “stop and smell the roses”, but honestly, have you ever?  I have, many times, over many months.  I’ve smelled them first budding in spring, wide open in summer, and fading fast in autumn.  Do you have any idea how utterly uplifting that smell is?  Just a few seconds of a nose buried deep into a rose bloom is enough to carry my spirit all day.  You must try it, promise me you will.  It’s everything I say it is and more.  That sweet, spicy scent will cling to the back of your throat and linger on your tongue and you will understand at last why that trite phrase has been used so long.

Take a few moments during the next snowfall and freeze time, take away the worry of getting to work, or the store, or the bus stop.  Block out the urge to groan, to think about shoveling and salting and ice scraping.  Just stop thinking ahead long enough to watch the flakes drift in the wind, to watch the world become blanketed in purity for a while.  Stand out in it long enough to hear it muffling the nonsense and the noise, and appreciate it, love it, be grateful for it.  Step back into the warmth of your dwelling and feel your face and hands and feet begin to thaw, to glow inside, just under the skin.  Sit by a window, just a few minutes, and stare into the murky distance beyond the moving curtain of white. 

We live in a society that places too much emphasis doing, accepts too many excuses.  No one lives in a constant state of panic motion.  Everyone on Earth has moments to spare, to dedicate to the appreciation of beauty.  We’ve been conditioned to believe that we don’t have the time, for anything.  I’m here to tell you that we do.  They lie.  There is always time, and it doesn’t always have to be spent doing.  You are not wasting time by putting the pause on the over exaggerated pace of life.  It’s alright to breathe, to observe, to listen.  I give you leave to do this, a hall pass to roam and wander.  It’s time to take back our right to notice beauty.

Today I found a nickel, a battered, abused, dirt encrusted nickel.  And it is a wonderful nickel indeed.  Go watch sunbeams and have a happy.

Love and light,
Tanya