By Louie Ferrera
It’s ok to just sit here, right? It’s ok to watch the green fingers of the apple tree sway in tandem with the singing of the wind chimes, right? It’s ok to watch the sky-blue scrub jay hop from tree branch to lawn to fountain. It’s ok to marvel at the stillness and the golden glow of the light on this October afternoon. The breeze is just enough of a whisper to move the bird feeders, solar lights, wind chimes and sun spinners that have managed to bring some life back into our dead plum tree. I’m just watching them all as they dangle from the thin, lichen-covered branches, turning what could be a sad sight into a celebration of rebirth and repurpose. I give myself permission to simply sit here and observe, I have no other agenda. There’s a blue plastic hummingbird up there too. It has a tiny five-blade fan attached to each of its sides instead of wings and hangs from a swivel hook. When the wind blows, the bird spins one way while the fans spin another way. Sometimes it appears as if it’s about to break free, become animated and join its fellow hummingbirds as they zip and buzz around the yard.
If I look just right at the three Van Gogh cypress trees before me, the light on them takes on a hallucinatory and dream-like quality. I once had a dream with just this very type of light illuminating it. I don’t have words to describe this dream but I know the feeling and I’m having it now. You may see me sitting here and wonder what I’m doing. I’m not doing , I’m just being. When I’m in this state, I find that I notice the little things: how the same hummingbird always sits at the end of the same skinny branch tip on the plum tree, how the magnificent Orb Weaver spider that’s called our backyard home since the summer comes out of hiding after dark every night and mends its tattered web, the fleeting alpenglow that lights up the Japanese maple tree at sunset, the departure of summer birds, the arrival of fall species.
It’s ok to not feel like the other shoe is about to drop, it’s ok to take a break from the feverish madness of Trump and the election, it’s ok to not think about the insane orgy of violence in the Mideast and Ukraine. My window on the world this afternoon is peaceful and green. Our cat is curled up like a question mark inside the last small pool of sunlight on our deck. She’s not worried about anything. Oh to be a cat. When Ella falls asleep in my lap her purring is food for my soul.
A folk singer-sage-poet that I used to listen to once said, “Life is short…but it’s WIDE!” There’s so much to see and experience in the brief time that we’re here. I try and wring every bit of living out of every precious moment but each day manages to slip by no matter how tightly I hold on. So today it’s ok to not do but to just be, hoping to slow the wheel down just a little and allow this golden afternoon to wash over me.
