It's a cool and manageable 35-degrees here this morning. frost on the ground and a quiet that comes of a Saturday morning in a small town.
A friend who lost her husband this past spring to cancer, is on my mind this morning. Wondering how she is this time of year, how patterns have shifted in this time alone, if the house is a manageable challenge or filled with too many reminders, if her newfoundland has been a welcome companion in this time of change.
I wonder sometimes if it is as much the shift in patterns as it is the actual loss of a person that causes the questions, the aches.
Impermanence is something we can count on. So how can this non-negotiable be embraced. No fear, but a graceful calm in the days we have. That this is the life. These are the people. And the time is now. Because it's what there is.
Dogs are so good at this. So direct. So clear. So present in ways that simply are.
I think of how much time I spend pondering what-there-is-to-do, or what it is I think I have yet to figure out. Of handling finances, of planning for the future, of what choice seems to promise this or that... versus that choice...
And on the morning walk, what became quite clear is that we are continually in dialogue with all that surrounds us, even beyond what our eyes and mind can comprehend. Rippling effects. And though it may seem as if so many of our actions are wiped away with time, as footprints on an ocean beach - we can also say with a certainty that the world would not be as it is, without us. Nor will it be the same without.
There is a mattering, even in the smallest ways of being. Perhaps at the end of a life, it is these small every day patterns that are the ones that hold the real joy.