New Perspectives and Long Car Rides/ Grateful
A new place, a change in routine, will inevitably wiggle your brain enough to gain some new perspective. Or rather, some old wisdom that you already know and need to be reminded.
This is happening today as I drive home from Thanksgiving in South East Washington with a too-big dog in my lap, and my sweetie pie driving, also lost in thought. Outside my window the scene is always changing: canyon, hills, shack tucked into a hillside, forest, river, pond dotted field. The east side of the state is a landscape that always seems thirsty, even in winter. The state is dissected by a mountain range. On the west is our home, squishy with rain and always alive, even in winter. This Thanksgiving had been one of smallness and simplicity. It was nice. Now, facing the mountains, I am thinking about the projects that need finishing; life and business always under construction. Up until this point, all that crazy thought had been still, just like this landscape of long, sweeping, shapes. And now trying to think of life on the other side of the mountains, the edges are blurry and pulled out.
It’s easy to get caught up in creating a certain kind of life and wonderful to find yourself in a new place, away from things that are familiar, dreaming of endless possibilities. It reminds me that lives can be made over in a hundred different ways. In a place where there are less edges, it’s comforting to know that the edges of the path I think I’m on are not so distinct.
taxes, payroll, grassland
The edges of this landscape are connected, and fuzzy. They’re not really edges at all. Not like the hard edges of a thousand things in a cluttered workshop. The sky doesn’t really break and suddenly become trees, the east doesn’t break and become west. It’s a great reminder, on a day for gratefulness, to let it all seep in and blur the edges; and when we lift our head up, to reach back out.