Clinging

There are times when we feel the torrential downpour of change and there are moments when we witness it in a tiny drop of water resting before it falls.

This morning mist is rising from foothills and meadows, the deep rain from the storm last night still moving as it lifts out of the earth. It is caught in wide swaths of leaves, tiny reservoirs that will evaporate slowly. It appears like a cloth made of crystals, droplets shining in spiderwebs. It clings to juniper and cheatgrass,to the sharp points of cacti and to the blades of grass bowed over with its weight, the drops eventually coalescing, causing them to finally fall, their return to earth as inevitable as the mist ascending.

There are times when I struggle, feeling as if everything about my life is static.  And then there are reminders that no life can really ever stay the same, even when we cling to stationary anchors. This morning, I simply recognized a constant giving and returning in equal measure, an undeniable dynamic flow that exists within me and the world surrounding me.