There are no accidents. These words, which I've recently come across again in a book my brother gave me a few days ago, have found a secret lodging place in a remote corner of my labyrinthian brain. There are no accidents.
I believe this. I have a friend who believes in 'co-incidences'. I have another friend who believes, as I do, that there are no co-inicidences. It's not a question I've thought to ask people often, however I've now decided it may be a determining factor when trying to understand someone better.
The past few weeks have been a kaleidoscope of ever changing beautiful hues in the form of things that have struck me as beautiful, mysterious and unpredictable, and yet, each day has flowed so easily into the next that I no longer question or am surprised at the things that are shown to me in this part of my life's journey.
Life is about observances. Life is about lessons.
Or perhaps, life is not about learning new lessons at all.
Perhaps it's more about remembering ancient lessons that were instilled in the very centres of our being a very long time ago, before time was even considered to be a dimension.
I'm often amazed, in the quiet way of a traveller through time, at the way the world of man and nature juxtapose here on planet earth. Nature adapts. Mankind adapts.
Lately I've noticed this with swans.... and with cemetaries. One has adapted to the world of mankind. The other has adapted itself into the world of nature. Which became more beautiful and which lost something of it's beauty in the process?
Recently I listed an enchanting 4-season cottage on the shores of a glassy, pristine northern lake. The area is still vast and forested. Loons still call across the surface of the water in the early evening light and the pace of life hasn't changed much there in over 150 years.
As I drove down the long, shaded road that left the cottage, I was reminded of the familiar blue historical plaque sign I had passed many times on my journeys here. This time, I decided to myself, I will turn off that beaten track and do some exploring, rather than returning directly back to more familiar territory.
In my experience, explorations often lead to unexpected places of quiet beauty and a deeper appreciation for a favourite quote of mine by Robert Louis Stevenson, "The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.'
In moments of quiet joy, as a child, I remember reciting those words over and over in my mind as I marvelled in amazement at the variety of creatures and colours that surrounded me while I explored swamps and small forest ponds.
As an adult, those times of quiet joy have seemed at times harder to come by; not because the things that bring them are no longer there, moreso because the years of living can cause us to lose our childlike innocence and open-ness in an effort at self-protection.
The walls we build around ourselves may serve us well at keeping harmful things at bay, however, in the inherent nature of walls, they also tend to block our view of the mysterious and the beautiful. Those things offered up to sooth our tired souls, by a universe that wants nothing more than to love us.
Remembering ourselves from long ago, from days when the world all seemed new and mysterious and wondrous to our tiny senses, brings back that innocence and we begin once more to see that the world never stopped being new and mysterious and wondrous; it was we who changed.
Driving along this ancient, back-country road, I remembered to re-open those senses and take in all that was appearing around me.
~to be continued.