Some days are just "like that."
What I mean by that is that there just seem to be days when we have "the slows," and it's all but impossible to find much motivation. Over the years, I've gradually learned to give up the struggle and simply recognize that some days will pass with little more than time for reflection.
Ordinary garden moss, extreme close-up
The passing of a friend — something I have sadly experienced many times — tends to leave me contemplating the importance of gratitude, particularly for the small things in our lives.
Naturally, we appreciate and give thanks for our big successes; engagements, promotions, winning lottery tickets... that pretty much goes without saying.
But do we stop and appreciate the largely unnoticed; the largely forgotten? The (perhaps) taken for granted? Little patches of green in an otherwise brown, white and gray winter landscape? Our cat, purring contentedly in the basket on the table? The shapes of clouds, as the drift by? The beauty of shiny bird feathers in the afternoon sun?
These little things all make up the tapestry of life... they matter, because even though we may not notice them much, we would definitely miss them, if they were gone.
A momentary sidetrack...
The post is wholly illustrated with photographs of moss on the pavement outside my window; it's always bright green and pretty, even in the depth of winter.
Have you ever really looked at moss? I tend to think of it as something I have to remove from our roof (work!), or something that invades our lawn (annoying!), or something that makes the wooden deck slippery (dangerous!)... but today, I stopped and looked at these tiny *"forests," always part of what I see.
Width of image, a little over one inch...
In Japanese culture, there's an important concept called Mono No Aware which doesn't really translate into English, but essentially means something alone the lines of a slight wistfulness we might experience at recognizing the impermanence of things.
We celebrate the beauty of the roses we might have grown, but when we cut them and put them in vase for our dinner party, we also recognize their transience, as they will pass from existence, 10 days from now.
Right now, I look out my window and see late afternoon winter sunlight illuminate an otherwise cold winter garden with a warming golden light. The beauty is tangible, moving... and in a few minutes, it will have passed, giving way to darkness.
And so, appreciation.
Appreciation for that green moss. And for my purring cat. And for memories of friendships, now gone. For little things... and large.
Thanks for reading!
(Another #creativecoin creative non-fiction post)
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Created at 20200203 16:50 PST