On a quiet side street of my island home there are dandelions and tall, weedy grasses and a tiny creek that dances over bits of stone. It makes me happy to walk along this street, my senses open, my heart oh, so wide. I like to see the things that no one else notices, to give them my attention and to feel them plump up when I do. Like the tuft of grass in the middle of the street.
I love him. I don’t know how he happened, but there, suddenly, in the middle of pure asphalt, is mister tuft of happy green grass. When neighboring lawns turn brown and coarse, he doesn’t. Here it is late summer and still he’s his sweet self of lush green.
And then there is the Stop sign tucked behind the tree that so few can ever see unless they get under the tree like I did. What color is the Stop sign, I asked my little girl. And now I ask you…what color is the Stop sign? Is she really red? Or is she something more? Is she also white…with maybe a little bit of tree juice mixed in there, too? What color is your Stop sign, the one nearest to your home? She's not just red even if 99% of us say it is so. For we forget to really see. To see the letters, to see the happenings, to see the life of something we stop beside every single day.
When we take the risk, because it is indeed a risk, to look closer and closer, the things around us begin to change. You see, it takes a certain bravery to wait and just look when the rest of the world is in such a hurry. But when we do, when we soften enough to step outside of our self-centeredness, we open ourselves up to a realm of wonder where we are a part of something larger. That place where we connect not just with a person or a people, but with the things around us too, that place, it emerges. The You in you and the Me in me…walk into the light to guide us home. We are steered back to our center.
And all because we took the time to give our attention to something.
A patch of grass
A Stop sign
Anything that finds its way into your path
Is your sacred ticket