There it sits, outside my bedroom window, a peninsula of grass on the top of a small ridge. I know it can’t speak, but then it does.
At first it sounds like an invitation. So I stop and linger when no one else is near. I take off my shoes to let the dew wet my feet. And soon my toes begin to draw circles in the grass. A tiny one here. Another one there. I feel silly. I feel a bit more alive. I feel a smile brewing in my belly. It’s then I begin to walk in circles. Wide ones, plump ones, full-of-possibility ones. Round and round and round again. Slowly, consciously, with the curiosity of an innocent, I stretch my arms. They rise up and down. Like wings. Like guides. Like friends who want to be an important part of things. And all the while, my heart is nursed by the magic of where I stand.
I revisit the dew of my grassy ridge again and again. In my imagination and with my eyes, and each time its invitation speaks a little louder, each time my smile gets a little wider. Until one day, the invitation is fully accepted.
And suddenly, together, we both begin to sing.
I hunt in my imagination for the perfect pattern, riding deeper still … listening to my grassy ridge, listening to the possibilities. Which does it call for, which shall it be? I discover excitement and new sparkles in my eyes. I discover idea after idea as they stream by, one shooting star after another. I discover welcomed passion and a day in the life of an impassioned human being.
* * *
Imagination is yours for the taking.
It is here to...
Lives Worth Living.
My grassy ridge is transforming into a labyrinth. One with a fence made of branches and stones that ignite new dreams. Every day I uncover more of what it has called out to be, of what my imagination allows it to be. And every day I smile a smile that wouldn’t be there, had I not listened. A smile that would not exist had I not taken the time to let my imagination create a new reality.