My fox friend came by this morning and sat with me from across the field. My favorite photo came through the binoculars, which is a solid metaphor for this week: crystal clear playful wildness, refracted and resized and squint just right (I have one wonky eye) and you can believe she'll let you nuzzle her gorgeous neck. She being, you know, the life we're building.
Fox teaches us about adaptability. Thinking on our feet. She teaches us about releasing stagnancy and opening up to magic, wonder, and surprise. She reminds us to laugh, when laughter is what is needed. She shows us what it is to use all our senses and to trust we know what to do. Really, most of the time we do.
So, this morning, she came by with one pup. (Where are the five other little ones, I tried not to worry.) The little one she brought rolled around in the grass, hunting, stalking, showing off, leaping, pouncing, bounding bounding bounding. I could taste that kind of play on my tongue.
And not for the first time, I thought about how I don't play as much as I want to. Do you? I spend much more time patiently watching, listening, making sure everyone is safe. So when it was time, I brushed the grass and dew off my legs and went inside to lay down on the kitchen floor. The kittens immediately pounced and rolled on my chest and belly and I laughed and Lucy the Old Lady Cat watched, patiently making sure we were all safe. And again, not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like if I could more often let go of the refracting and squinting and welcome the crystal clear playful wildness that my life is asking of me.
Where can you invite more wonder into your life?
do not choose the lesser life. do you hear me. do you hear me. choose the life that is. yours. the life that is seducing your lungs. that is dripping down your chin.