Opening the Drapes

I’m sitting in the airport, listening to a woman behind me talk to her dog on the phone. I know this because I’m guessing her child isn’t named “Miffy” of “Spot”. Or at least I hope not.

My horoscope today suggested that I live in the present. Eckhart Tolle would agree. However, I’ve decided to choose which present, because in any given moment, there is a lot to take in.  The puppy-doting woman was entertaining, until she got a human on the phone and went into an elaborate description of the cruise buffet. The cluster of eight men walking through the airport with pointy felt hats and gray knickers were interesting (was there a direct flight from the Alps?), but they passed by too quickly before I could surmise about what sort of musical instruments they were hauling in the tube-shaped bags. I decided on the interior moment, sitting in the airport an author completing a tour, and reflected on the last 24 hours.

Yesterday at this time I was sitting in seat 24C on a 767 heading to Atlanta. While I had my collection of books and notebooks with me, I was yearning for the internet. As a woman in transition – looking for a new house and exploring new consulting options – life felt uncertain lately. I was antsy to be in action. Instead, I made the mistake of ruminating, which in Sally-speak is code for worrying.

I arrived in Atlanta to be greeted by a fellow author and friend, Dr. Ernest H. Adams, and our driver. Whisked away to the hotel,  checking into a luxurious room, opening a thoughtful gift bag– they all tempered my weariness. But I still wasn’t fully living in the present. My mind kept leaping to the future, a picture I was unable to paint.  It was like holding up a sable brush to an empty easel.

In the morning I awoke to the sound of rain against the window. I drew back the drapes to discover a picture window framing a grove of spindly trees, a thin forest of tall timbers swaying and dancing in the gales of wind and rain. A heavy fog muted the autumn colors, but making them no less beautiful. I have always found peace in the woods, be it hiking, horseback riding, or even driving. Pulling back those curtains was like opening a present.

And the trees reminded me of the simple rules of nature. They were so accepting of the wind, moving in changing weather, dancing with the elements. And why wouldn’t they? The storm was as natural and as necessary for their grown as was the heat of the sun.

I thought back my brother’s curiosity about toddlers and elevators. “Don’t you wonder if kids think that they go into this box, the doors close, they open and everything has changed?”

I hadn’t known that this lovely forest was behind my drapes. I had arrived in the dark of night, but I only to wait until dawn to find it.

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