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30 Days of Noticing Hints of Gladness
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
~ Mary Oliver ~
For 30 days (or more) I’m going to post and talk about the things that give me joy. I'm going to do my best to record hints of gladness especially when I walk and throughout the day.
To sustain this, and what will hopefully become a habit, I have to keep it as simple as possible, so I’m not going to write or do anything too elaborate other than to briefly comment on what's making me glad and have a picture or two to go along it.
Take good care,
~ Rod
P.S. If you'd like to join me, let me know. I would love to have some fellow travellers who are taking note of their hints of gladness. Email rod@hintsofgladness.com
See today's reflection below.
April 28, 2022
The smile and cheery “good morning” greeting from the first passerby I see on the trail this morning.
The presence of Presence
Thoughts of Myles Black just hitting one note.
The joy of not trying
Cool morning air and the feeling that comes with getting out of a stuffy apartment
Moss covered trees with a look of shag carpet
The sound of the rushing creek
Birdsong. Always birdsong.
Everything is speaking to me this morning. Everything seems to have meaning. What’s with that?? Is it the influence of the devotional I read this morning that everything is sacred?
Stumps. Such a negative word. The stumps of massive cedar trees make me lament. I wish I could see them in all their glory. I wish they had left some of the trees. When I do find an older massive tree they are inspiring. They were here before me and they will still be here after I’m gone. Such stillness. Such beauty. Such presence. Such strength and such focus of purpose. They heal me.
Contemplating old growth trees seemed to help me find the note this morning. So did just being out here after a period of time and absorbing the pace of nature and stilling my mind. Almost like it always does. I’m home here and I don’t want this music to end. I guess I can bring this same presence into the next song. Keep listening to the music. It’s all sacred. There’s an end when you leave the trail. That particular song ends and another one begins.
Exploring a new trail that leads to a creek.
Choosing to do something challenging when I could have just as easily taken the easy way out.
Delicate purple flowers that grow in the underbrush of the forest. I think they escaped from someone’s yard or maybe they were intentionally planted.
The late afternoon sun streaming through the trees. The shadow, the delicate light, the illumination.
