Dazzled

A brand new day -- I've never lived this day before and the thought of it is quite exciting. I'm watching the late summer sun rise and show its light behind the straight up oak as I sit looking east. Hummingbirds studiously move among pink and purple fluted morning glories. Sometimes, one little bird as big as a bumblebee visits the feeder on the fence where I sit on the deck. I can hear the buzzing of his wings as he busily flits from one to another of the plastic yellow flowers circling the red sugar water container. The sound of the neighborhood is mostly traffic down on 75th street which is busy with folks making their way to work and, so far, not a peep of a siren as the police car sits catlike beside the Catholic school; they always nab at least one unsuspecting person running behind time. And there's

so much more, but I must read the Tao, still absorbing One -- the chapter of no name and no word. I am reading and re-reading every sound and space: "Whether a person who is awake in play sees the heart of life or its surface manifestations is hardly important because they are exactly the same point in space and time. . ." So, as Jane Cat and I sit in the morning, awakening to all tastes of breeze and scents of whatever we breathe in and breathe out and sights of various scenes of sun, hummingbird, violet aster, squawking squirrel, we "are exactly the same point in space and time. . ." -- Bluejay up close and train somewhere distant hold us together in this space at this time in contentment and deep contemplative pleasure.

"Every day I walk out into the world to be dazzled, then to be reflective." Mary Oliver