Taking Baby Steps Through Life
The flickering dapples creeping across the room never fail to inspire a sense of pleasure, but I seldom afford them much scrutiny. This morning was different.
One particular blob of sunlight captured my attention. Otherwise like the sun in his brilliance, a small wedge had been nibbled from its lower right-hand corner. And as it inched my way, the wedge grew, quite perceptibly consuming more and more of the brilliance. Soon the tiny wedge was a full square, rendering a significant void into the right hemisphere of the dancing sun. A chunky letter "C," I thought, noticing that with each millimeter of movement, the brightness further diffused.
Moments passed, and the square was again a wedge, this time devouring the upper right-hand corner. Now closer and obviously larger, the orb was barely scintillating, its once-crisp edges slowly melting into the carpet.
By giving the wedge careful attention, I had easily discerned the actual movement of the spot. In the past, I had assumed that such changes were slow and amorphous, something like the phases of the moon. You look, but can't tell that anything is happening. But my newfound acuity revealed that the patch of light was moving with discrete baby steps, tiptoeing my way.
And in pondering this profoundly commonplace event, I am enlightened. My own life, which up to now has made invisible transitions from one phase into another, is now observed to be progressing, like the spot, at a definite and definable pace.
Not so long ago, a young father remarked how quickly his children were growing. And so they were. But his own transitions escaped comment: too slow to measure or too gradual, perhaps. But in just a blink he'll be a chunky letter "C" and well into his course.
And just today I held a picture of a group of eager backpackers embarking on 40-mile trek. I'm the one on the right--all smiles and full of bravado--with strength to carry the pack, albeit slowly, and finish the course. But the physical encroachments of the last five years have nibbled away at the core of what once was.
Minutes later, the spot had vanished without a trace, rendered invisible by the relentless rise of the sun. But it left an intangible something: a few moments of pleasant interlude, a time of enjoying simple pleasure in a chaotic world.
Thus awakened, I realize that I have been inattentive to the baby-step phase of a life which now seems to bound along in seven-league boots, measured and marked by each day allotted me. And when my energy has finally been dissipated, I will have done well to have left behind, like the spot, a meaningful influence: a pleasant interlude to be appreciated and fondly recalled by those who watched.
Copyright 2002 James McAlister
Comments
Post a Comment