Wild One,
We stand before the window, you and I.
There’s something vital I want to show you…
And so, you patiently wait for something radical to appear.
But I stay silent. And the stillness tugs at the hems of your mothering attention, so you start to seek for the radical yourself. The mind needs feeding and entertaining after all, like all innocent things do.
As your attention wanders through the window pane and out over the hills, you see the light cleaving its way through the soft doughy mounds, the river snaking through its cleft, the yard full of gently bending snowdrops, the dog weaving through the kissing gate, the cherry blossoms tightly budded glistening in morning dew, the pale ash of last open night’s fire scattering across the glassy puddles, the muddy earth trodden raw…
Beautiful, yes.
But radical? No.
Impatience builds. You could pretend to ‘see it’ – the significance of this scene - but that somehow feels disingenuous. Besides, you want the truth. You want to know, to heal, to improve the quality of your life…you want to see the magic.
…and all this time you’ve been looking through the window, you’ve forgotten what’s right in front of you…