What are we waiting for?

 white horse

“It’s not too late… the angel said.
Even though the world’s a mess…
Even though you’re not as young…
Even though you’ve made mistakes and have been afraid
It’s not too late…” ~ Roy Atchison

I cleaned today and worried about my mother. A hummingbird visited the garden in the morning and made me smile. A warm breeze came in the afternoon, then stopped.

Two pairs of turtle doves nuzzled in the front yard. Then a cardinal shocked me with its bright color and presence…suddenly, it landed on the fence, and stood there looking at me for a few moments.

So many birds, as if messengers…or perhaps coming to ask me something.

And now it’s late, my dog Max went to lie down on the floor next to my chair. Today, unlike other days, he chose to face the open door to the backyard. With an ear propped up, he looks into the night, as if waiting.

I am watching him and thinking. Why do we sit still so often in our lives, behind the props that move through the world on our behalf?

Are we waiting for signs from the gods before we dare to make a move, to feel, to give, to ask?

We know what we know, even if we are too indulgent with the untruths we allow, and too harsh with the beautiful truths we often try to bury.

Before we act, before we choose to live and believe in life, in ourselves, in another… must we know the precise condition of dreams and needs left outside to wither and freeze through our many seasons of uncertainty, fear and indecision?

What does it matter?

They are where we left them.

Any guilt, any damage, like the thick snows of winter, have melted by now. The only risks left are wellness…happiness.

And besides, we are always given enough hints and signs for reassurance when needed.

Little worries, little memories, little birds visiting. A blurry dream of broken things and things made whole again.

A sudden stirring that is both troubling and familiar…not quite enough, yet almost too much.

What is necessary, needed and beautiful reveals itself always, leaving a trail of little stars on our brow.

There is so little time to exchange gifts. So little time to be shy and tender, forgetful of the unimportant things and awake for the important ones.

So what exactly have we got to lose? What are we waiting for?

“I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:

Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one’s self.

O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:

You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.
You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.” ~ Hafiz

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