After days of stereotypical Seattle rain, today was glorious. The sky was blue with movie-backdrop clouds, and the gold maple leaves fell poetically. The air was soft, dry, and intent on caressing skin–gentle breezes swept across me throughout the day.
A hawk flew upon the wind and landed gently in the pond. Such a beauty! I held my breath and stayed my blinks, hoping not to startle her. (Her? I don’t know for sure. Just a hunch.)
Alight on a boulder in the water and vigilant–watching the squirrels on the ground and the crows overhead. Her head turning, back and forth. She took a quick sip of water and scanned the world again. Then another sip.
My neck began to ache from how far I had turned it to see the hawk. But I held still, and then she walked into the water, until it just covered her legs. She surveyed the realm, and then, began to bathe.
The hawk hasn’t been around for awhile, so just her presence was a treasure. But I felt honored to watch her bathe, shaking her tail and stretching her wings, and burying her head in the water. When she finally set aside vigilance and immersed herself completely in the process, the bath was so beautiful to watch.
This has been a day of still and quiet. In the morning when I woke it was as if the entire world had hit the snooze button and was still sleeping.
Later, I took a long walk into Discovery Park, and spent about an hour sitting still on a bench overlooking Puget Sound. The sun was very bright and the air was warm. I aimed to think of nothing, and listen for truth. Tidbits of understanding kept leaping to my mind, and I jotted them down in blue ink on small bits of paper–setting them aside so I could return to thinking of nothing.
I sorted out a few things, about my self and my life. Some sad things, and I pondered some of my “faults”–those things about me that keep me constrained or less happy. And I scribbled those down as well. About then, dark gray clouds began to mingle with the fluffy white ones, and it seemed a “sign” that it was time to head home.