A Reason to Pause

How do we embrace the world with these senses so essential to our existence?

The memories that matter are often awash with sensation.

How profound the stillness that enters our hearts and necessary the reminder of where we are in the universe, when we take a moment to notice. Just notice.

I'm starting to notice everything I see.

We are surrounded by richness of colour and dancing light,

a brilliant, ever-changing mixture for our tiny, significantly insignificant eyes to take in,

as with the passing of weather across the sky or

the movement of burning, engulfing the firewood pile.

We are witness to the greens and reds of the aurora borealis,

sending spirit streaks into the sky-dome.

Their purest form holding our gaze long enough for time to fade.

And how these things that themselves observe are so intricate within.

Each colour afforded its own swirling design,

its uniqueness equating to a fingerprint.

And we hear these things too.

The crackling of charred wood and the hissing of flaming tongues as they absorb and demolish everything thrown within.

And next to this, like a blanket of sound encroaching on the coast,

is the roaring of the ocean as waves break on the shore.

We observe this with the tiniest of organs,

the fine bones allowing us to turn our heads like canines to a dog whistle.

We separate the pulse of music with its simple chords;

the rising of a crowd with each individual voice;

and the cacophony of the world with each living thing.

And olfaction plays its part.

The freshness of the morning breeze prickling our noses,

as the decay smell of autumn signals the time of hibernation.

The notes of cedar and cinnamon that tickle our brains while transporting us to a memory, a reason to pause.

And the wind, holding smoke in its hands,

fastens us to the earth as we breathe in the moment and slowly release it with an exhale, the scent not lingering long enough.

We feel.

Outstretched hands embracing heat on chilly nights,

holding sand on coolest beaches,

and cupping reflection in purest element.

Our heels dug in the earth that gives way to frozen ground come wintertime.

Its beauty never retracting even when the plants are sleeping.

Forget about the passing hours,

noise of responsibility,

smell of the ordinary

and sight of the usual.

Live here, in the world.

It is a gift.