At the very end of summer’s long, slow inhalation of the nourishing light of the sun, there comes a pause, a moment when time itself seems to stand still. Nothing moves. Not a leaf, not the water, not a sound. You hold your breath, maybe not even noticing; it’s such a natural thing. A rest note in the song, the last word in a chapter. Inside it, everything is awake, rooted, waiting. Then the air whispers and the beginning of what-comes-next stirs, and the reeds sway, and from high in a tree a bird calls, and once again you’re breathing.
The host of the program I was listening to last Tuesday asked his listeners to send in their stories about a transcendental experience in their lives, one of those defining moments that you know you’ll always remember.
He read a couple of them, and you could feel the emotion in each one, the quiet power and beauty. Then he came to one that topped them all.
It was from a woman who identified herself as Maria. When her daughter was ten months old, Maria and her husband took her to the zoo. The baby fell asleep after a while and Maria was carrying her in her arms when they decided to visit the gorilla house. Someone had told them that a couple of the gorillas in there had babies.
They were barely in the door when Maria found herself across the glass from a seated mother gorilla, cradling her own baby in her massive, hairy arms the same way Maria was holding her daughter,
The two mothers stared at each other, each of them sharply aware of the bond that linked them. Maria bent down and held her sleeping daughter nearer to the glass so the mother gorilla could see her more fully. To Maria’s surprise, the big gorilla carried her sleeping baby to the glass for Maria to see. For about ten minutes, with only mere inches and a pane of glass separating them, the mothers showed off their babies, comparing their little hands and ears and faces and feet.
Those ten minutes with the gorilla mom were a defining moment in Maria’s life. They made it clear that the right decision for her was to turn down a job she had been offered. It was well-paying and would have been a definite step up on the career ladder. But it would have required her to put in a substantial amount of time. She took a lower paying one instead so she could spend more time with her baby. The moments she shared with the gorilla showed her that children come first. “That’s what nature directs,” she said.
Maria went on to have another daughter two years later, and now she’s expecting twin boys. And she credits her family life to what she learned the day she met the mama gorilla and her baby. May they all live happily ever after.
The first notes sound and the curtain lifts to reveal a palette of gold and green. Dusty rose Joe Pye weed and waves of goldenrod rise against the backdrop of late summer’s multi-hued trees, all of them waltzing in the warm, light breeze. Now a crimson vine rises, trumpeting September’s red theme in notes that will sound in countless variations as the days unfold, each of them flaming with poignant drama as the year burns toward its close.
The green still prevails and always shall, standing as it does for life. Even so, the seasons roll, each having its purpose and time. Thus autumn begins its ascent, singing of harvest in tones of rust and gold. And on its heels the time of rest will follow. But even then, green stands, though there be mountains of snow.
You would think that by the time you got to your 77th autumn, the season would cease to amaze. But here we are, almost at its door and already I find myself gazing with astonishment, my whole mind shouting, “Look! Look! Oh, Wow!”
Sometimes you need to take a different path, to shake off the ordinary and routine. You never know what surprises and delights lurk just beyond the horizon. The world, after all, is filled with wondrous things. Why, one day you could take a turn and, right around the bend, discover a field full of sunflowers. You never know.
The first leaves color and fall. The light comes later and fades all too soon. But in the heap of wild foliage at the roadside pale purple asters begin their autumn dance. And oh, the luscious fragrance in the air!
Finding themselves on rocky ground, surrounded by the broken and the fallen, in a place where the sun can find only brief and narrow openings, some spirits nonetheless thrive, rejecting excuses for failing, choosing instead to laugh and stand tall, to shine their light, to blossom in love and live free. If you should see them, let your heart applaud.
Let your eye see beauty. Meet the eyes of a stranger with a smile. Dare to sing. Allow yourself to savor the pleasures of the moment, even though the world is filled with fear and pain. Your one courageous act of joy lessens the weight of suffering that the world has to bear. Do your best. Tilt toward the light
