Sometimes I can’t see what is right in front of me.
Some friends in Virginia had what I call “mushroom vision.” They loved to hunt for morel mushrooms that grow wild in the woods, and they knew how to spot them among the springtime leaves and undergrowth. This, in my experience, is no easy task. Morels are masterful camouflagers. Often when I ventured out on a mushroom hunt with friends? My shoe was squashing the forest delicacy before I even knew I had “found” it.
Sometimes I can’t see what is right in front of me, and sometimes that is because I don’t know what I’m looking for.
But other times? I think I miss seeing some of life’s gifts because my eyes are focused elsewhere. Or my mind is. Or my heart. Sometimes my perspective is off kilter, or my eyes are just too world-weary to see beyond the stack of work in front of me.
Quarantine and social-distancing days have nudged me to see with a new intensity much beauty around me I have overlooked or taken for granted before. This is an unexpected gift of the pandemic. Birds seem more abundant and full-throated than usual. Last spring, even as the pandemic took hold, my irises were bolder and more loquacious than ever. And I am in awe of the cedar waxwings that feasted on a holly berry buffet in our neighborhood a few weeks ago.
Catching sight of creation’s gifts like these in the midst of wilderness times gives me hope.
What is that hope? My hope is that during uncertain times we—the collective communal we—gain new perspectives on our communities’ amazing gifts. In fact, once we know what we are looking for, perhaps we can see, experience, and celebrate new connections with colleagues, co-workers and community members. Perhaps we can forge unexpected relationships that lead to imaginative ideas for contributing to the flourishing of our communities.
I relish my connections with faculty, staff, and students within the Wake Div community, even if most of those connections these days are through Zoom’s peculiar windows in walls. And I challenge myself this week to make one new connection with someone at Wake Div. Perhaps you will join me and seek out a new connection or partnership in the days ahead.
Fried morel mushrooms, by the way, are a tasty delicacy, if you can find them. Of course, you have to know something about what you are looking for; not all mushrooms result in gastric delights!
Ode to the River Down the Road
*written on the occasion of noticing the river in
my neighborhood as if for the first time.
It’s been too long, old friend,
since I last saw you dance—
not because you weren’t moving
but because my ears
were too full of distracting debris
to listen for your music.
Ancient rocks welcome your embrace.
Pebbles laugh in sun-touched delight
as you slip and slide across their backs.
And trees lean in close
to hear you whisper
the secrets rivers keep.
Thank you for continuing
to twist
tumble
turn
to the music of the spheres.
Thank you—
for saving a dance
for me.