Walking early on a Sunday morning: bright sunshine, a hint of frost, and the practice of gratitude.
“You know what I believe? I remember in college I was taking this math class, this really great math class taught by this tiny old woman. She was talking about fast Fourier transforms and she stopped midsentence and said, ‘Sometimes it seems the universe wants to be noticed.’ That’s what I believe. I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is improbably biased toward consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed. And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it – or my observation of it – is temporary?”
– John Green
(via Whiskey River)
There is a place to stand
where you can see so many lights
you forget you are one of them.
- Naomi Shihab Nye
I miss the countryside. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. Part of me feels cross at taking photographs, looking for patches of colour, flowers, sky in a world that has become so urban again.
But another part of me knows I need to learn and keep on learning how to notice, and honour, what is here, now.
If you follow the path down from the end of our street, there are steps that lead down to the car park, the shops, and the pub.
There’s a piece of rough ground to the side of the path, left by a negligent, or thoughtful, council to run wild.
It’s full of wild flowers.
Even today, on the 5th November, it is rich with flowers,
enjoying the end of the season,
faces turned up to the sun.