It was a chance collection and not a surprising one, given the time of year. The night's wind had harvested these objects, dropping them on the Pond's ice. We saw them there and didn't give them much thought. Why would we? Broken branches; dead leaves: what is there to notice?
And perhaps there wasn't much. After all, not everything is captivating. Yet, what we had here - what I saw for a brief moment - was more than just a bunch of dead stuff on the ice. Do I want to make an allegory of that, bring some deeper meaning to what is obviously a common bit of detritus? Maybe...
I sat with it for a while. And here's what I remembered: even the least of these... Even the junk, the garbage, all of it has something to bring us. This junk is perfect and ordinary and these two are more comfortable together than we might imagine. It goes beyond making judgments of beauty or meaning or importance. It is only about our ability to commit to making and seeing sacredness, the boisterous and meaningless cacophony of joy in everyday objects and moments. As we remember to celebrate these, we bring ourselves back to our true home, which is our eternal task, an internal reflection of the celebration that surrounds us in every present moment.
Good to see you!