Taking The Time To Truly See

It was another gorgeous day today, and I celebrated it as I usually do- by taking the dog, and my almost one-year-old daughter, hiking in the mountains.

Before returning home, I chose to rest for a while. Putting my daughter down on the grass beside me, I picked up a favourite book, and started to read. At least I thought I was reading. I actually went over the same paragraph about five times, and even now a couple of hours later, I couldn't tell you what it said.

Instead my mind was eating away at other things- whether there was enough money in the bank to pay the bills, if the dog was allowed off the lead here, if I would ever have enough money to live in one of these secluded houses on the side of the mountain (instead of having to drive sixty miles every day) and whether the couple in that van over there were having sex (oops).

Glancing at my daughter, I noticed she was completely absorbed in a blade of grass. She was turning it over and over in her tiny fingers, studying its colour, texture, and taste. She'd put it in her mouth, frown at the way it felt, spit it out, and hold it up to me with her 'look mum, see what I found, isn't it great?!' noise.

I smiled back at her, love pouring from my body, so much so that it hurt. I mused on what it would be like to find something, so fascinating. And realized, what reason did I have to NOT find it fascinating? When was the last time I had actually taken time out to study anything that closely? (Except the baby of course. And maybe re-runs of Brad Pitt in THAT scene of 'Thelma and Louise'.)

This struck me as odd though (ok people, we're back to the story now, quit wondering 'what scene?' will you!). It struck me as odd, that I had never studied anything that closely, at least not for a long while. I mean, I learn something new in my job every day, what could possibly be so fascinating in a blade of grass?

I plucked another piece (not stealing the babies please note, aren't I a good mummy?). It was dry, and crumbled in my hands as I rolled it between my fingers. It smelled sweet, not 'chocolate sweet' (otherwise it would have been out of my hand, and into my stomach in two seconds) but rather like the horses, back at home. I placed it between my teeth (yes, I know I'm now eating grass but please bare with me), tongue scratching on the tip of it. It tasted... well actually it tasted like a banana, having wolfed down a banana just a few minutes ago- but barely tasting it then.

As I chewed on this blade of grass (please stop laughing), concentrating on its taste and texture, something happened. I noticed how quiet it was up there. The only sounds being the wind whispering past my ears, rustling the grass. And the dog disappearing into the far off distance (oh well). It was heaven. An overwhelming, long missed, and much needed peace swept through me.

Looking up I noticed three bald eagles, circling above us. Magnificent creatures. Riding effortlessly on the breeze. Free, powerful, wanton, amazing.

And now, across on the mountain opposite us, a herd of buffalo were stampeding down the slopes. Running as one, caught in a single moment.

It was almost like God was sending me gifts. I had taken time out of my supposedly hectic life, to appreciate the miraculous beauty of what had been created. And here I was being rewarded for these simple pleasures.

I felt a pure delight. I was connected to this mountain beneath me. The grass and trees, breathing as I. The endless sky above.

All that I had been so caught up in before, now seemed so trivial. (I mean, who cares if that couple are having sex?) To think they had tricked me from this wonder I was surrounded by!

I went on my way with a new vigour, new priorities, a new purpose. Almost reaching the car, I stumbled across an antler, newly shed, (or was it-had I just not been aware of it before?), from quite a large buck it seemed. I picked it up (no, I didn't eat it in case you were wondering). The perfect gift. A momento for me, of the day I took the time to truly see...

Now, I suppose I had better find the dog.