Different Viewpoint

On my recent walk at Backbone State Park, I made sure to ... um... stop walking for a bit.

I know, I know.  I clearly don't know how to go on a hike by myself.  You see, if you are going on a hike, you're supposed to keep moving.  The whole point is to get form point A to point B and to do it efficiently.

And I didn't do that.

Instead, I stopped a couple of times to listen carefully to the birds, trying to identify as many calls as I could.  Then, I pulled out the phone and the Merlin app to see if I was getting the identifications right.  THEN, I started turning in place to just view the world around me in all directions.

Note to self, do this slowly to avoid getting dizzy next time.

Yes, now I am just being silly, because I did not actually spin so fast that I got dizzy.  But I noticed you needed me to get your attention back by being a little silly.  Did it work?  No?  Alas for me.

Anyway, after I took the time to face each direction, I looked down.  Then I looked up.

Then I got the camera out and tried to take pictures of some of the things I observed in that space.  My favorite photo from that exercise is the one you see above.

When I was looking down, I noticed a feather that landed over a leaf on one of the rocks on the trail.  There were some small plants growing in the fissures of the rock and there were leaves that had fallen from the nearby trees.  

If I were a person who was an expert at bird identification, maybe I would have endeavored to identify the bird this had come from.  But, alas again, I am only an amateur in that area.  Better than many, not as good as others.  If I were a geologist, I might have found things to study in the rock - but I am not.  So, I could only note textures and colors and the various qualities a person who has not studied rocks deeply might be able to make.

Still, what I was able to consider and view while I was looking down was very different from what I observed while looking up.  I could even make myself believe that the two were not connected, even though I knew I had not moved more than a couple of feet from my original position (if that).

On one side of the trail was a rock face.

I have been on this trail before and I recall a similar day that was a bit less windy and much more sunny.  At that time there were various insects and spiders here that I could observe.  But on this day, there was no such activity, despite my willingness to patiently await a possible reveal.

Instead, I found myself looking at a rock wall that was uninterested in performing any feats of magic for me today.  And, to be perfectly honest, I really didn't want it to move while I was standing there any way.  I was content that the stone would continue on with its slow, steady life - likely considering active and impatient critters, such as myself, as being beneath its notice anyway.

I could turn both directions and observe the trail that I had come from and the trail I was going to.  

There was something familiar about the way the path seemed to disappear ten to twenty feet away in either direction.  I could clearly see this trail in the area where I was currently residing, but both my past and my future were obscured.  Hidden by trees, bushes and rocks.  

The trail was not perfectly straight.  And, while I have walked this path before, I was not so familiar with it that I knew exactly what I would find around either bend.  

It reminded me a bit of the growing seasons we have experienced at our farm.  Each season has followed a general pattern - planning, to sowing, to cultivating, to harvest and back to planning.  A cycle that has us following the same path from year to year.  But the path is never quite the same - either because our memory recorded the trail improperly, or because things truly were different this time around.

I could put my back to the rock face and look out at the Maquoketa River.  Now I could contemplate water.  Water is able to ooze its way between rock, wash away sand, and makes up much of the volume that is you and I.  Each droplet has a value beyond measure and too many droplets can destroy things we value just as quickly.  

It made me think of a an excellent tune by the Choir that has the lyric "every drop of water is a blessing and a curse."  In recent months, most of Iowa has been in a drought.  So, every drop of water that we have received at our farm has been viewed as a blessing.  But, I also know that some of the rainfalls we got that we were so pleased to have ended up causing other people some problems.  And I can also recall many times on our farm when we were doing our fair share of cursing at the water droplets as they fell... and kept falling.

I even noticed a flowering plant nearby.  Clearly it was near the end of its flowering cycle.  But I still appreciated its presence and the little dash of color it added to the landscape.

So... all of this by simply being in one place for a while and giving myself time AND PERMISSION to look around.  To take in the view from as many angles as my imagination would allow.

And look what I was able to see.  Can you see all of the interesting things I could observe and the thoughts I could consider?

And that is my gentle reminder for today.  Give yourself the time and permission to look at something from all sorts of angles.  It could be all of the views you can see from your front porch.  It could be all of the different sounds you can hear in a favorite song.  It could be all of the different ways you could think about a particular idea.  Close your eyes and smell the fragrances in a spice rack in your kitchen.

You might be surprised what you will observe.