Showing posts with label contemplation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contemplation. Show all posts

Saturday, February 23, 2013

365 Inspirations—54: Flying Kites and Contemplations

"See where your own energy wants to go, not where you think it should go. Do something because it feels right, not because it makes sense. Follow the spiritual impulse."—Mary Hayes-Grieco

Yesterday afternoon, Yoon and I planned to go out for an early dinner, but realized there wasn't enough time to make it before his yoga class. I ended up doing a U-turn and dropping him off at the yoga studio.

I didn't go home. For some reason my car headed in the direction of the beach. It was out of my control.

The morning started out with rain and the afternoon ended with high winds and bright sun. Washington State is a moody one. It changes its mind every hour or so. Lately I've been like that too.

I feel I'm in a kind of limbo. Can't really explain. Sometimes I feel I want to get in my car and drive to Arizona—to the red rocks and blue sky—and just write for three months.

Writing has been calling my name, but teaching has taken over my life. I love teaching and meeting with my students, but this distinct voice is calling me to retreat and write again and it's getting harder to ignore it.

I parked my car by the woods and walked on the mossy South Rim trail through the trees. I didn't have proper shoes for walking nor did I have the right jacket. The wind whipped at my face and neck. I felt a chill through my whole body.

The trail opened up to Puget Sound—a raging white-capped sea. The sun was high and there were a few white clouds, but the sky in the distance looked black and ominous.

I sat on a log in the sand and watched a father and daughter laugh together as their octopus kite soared and dipped, riding the wild currents of the wind.

The young girl shouted, "Oh no!" each time the kite took a nose dive, coming close to taking out a few beach strollers and she giggled with glee when she was able to keep the kite up for extended periods.

"Good job! That's it!," her father encouraged.

I sat there staring at the silhouettes of these two, as the sun began to set behind them. Their laughter was carried off with the wind.

I didn't know what to do. All I could do was sit and watch and when my hands finally became numb, I turned and headed for my car and drove home.

Do you ever feel called to make a change or do something new? Do you act on it, or do you just continue on like before?