My moments of reverie today were limited to a walk around a big city block in the heart of Denver where my husband and I were staying with a friend. On other days here, I have taken advantage of a huge park close by where the trails, both concrete, and dirt, meander through tall trees, reach across stretches of meadow or follow along a willow-edged stream. But on this special Sunday I intended to attend church with my friend and, due to time constraints, kept my fast-paced stroll confined to the sidewalks that encircled the condo complex. Still, brilliant boxed flowers decorated doorways and corridors, leashed dogs joyously accompanied their exercising masters, and branches of oaks and elms waved overheard, with sunshine streaming through leaves at their summer peak. Nature, when given half a chance, will rear her wondrous head in whatever way is available to her. She makes me smile and be glad thereof.
Thus, when the minister of the Unitarian Universalist congregation mentioned a poem by Mary Oliver in his sermon, my face once again split into an extraordinary grin: “Instructions for Living a Life” says, simply, “Pay attention. Be astonished. Talk about it.” So, I will—
I listened with rapt attention as black spirituals were sung with absolute glee by people of all ethnicities. I laughed along with everyone else when the minister asked us to embrace “existential joy” just as a child screamed out her infant distress at being restrained. I watched as others danced and clapped, waving their arms in much the same way as the trees I had seen earlier in the day. I squinted to read the notes pinned under nametags that read “White Supremacy is the problem.” And I felt a little bit wary as I stood in line after the service in an “all genders” line to use the restroom facilities. But I came away from the urban experience with more than astonishment. I came away changed once more by an hour in an environment other than my usual small-town lifestyle (and mindset).
So, I’m talking about it. Right here. Right now. With you. With anyone who might chance upon this reverie, this in-the-moment musing being written at a Starbucks situated on the corner of a very busy intersection. I look out the window at things I have never seen before and may never see again. I study the people coming in and going out, listening to music strange to my ears. And I ask myself this important question: “What can I take away from this time in the city that will assist me in living a good life, a full life, a life of wonder and reward?” The answers are many and profound. It doesn’t hurt me one bit to smile again, this time with a little bit of chagrin and a whole lot of self-expectation about expanding my horizons.
~LJ