I wonder how much everyday
abundance I fail to notice, the way I sometimes absentmindedly pass by the
roses overflowing our trellis these days. In my busy comings and goings, I
usually don’t stop to appreciate the many dozens of pink blossoms spilling over
the bars of the trellis, just as I’m sure I heedlessly disregard simple but
beautiful lavishness in other places. Stone fences, for instance, are plentiful
all along the roads near our house – hundreds of thousands of stones selected
for their perfect shapes and shades of gray, and set in place by practiced
artisans. It’s a lovely bountifulness of natural fencing, but one that I
usually pass with hardly a glance. And what about the layers and layers of
leaves that are overflowing in trees at this luxurious time of year? Great
clouds of leaves softly waver above me, but when do I ever truly notice them,
study them, be thankful for them? Above the leaves, too, are sometimes
bounteous tiers of clouds that seem to puff their way across the sky, but when
was the last time I really noticed their lushness? When was the last time I really looked at clouds in all their graceful profusion?
This
world is a place of pure abundance, and I guess, at 71, it’s time I started seriously
noticing it.
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