Tuesday, November 3, 2015
A Limited View: Tuesday's Reflection
I love sitting at my desk in my garret, even though the view from my desk is limited. The two windows let in the day's light, and I am grateful for that, but what I actually see when seated at my desk is our garage roof. In order to see anything else, I need to leave my desk and stand at the top of the stairs. Then I can look down into our yard, beautifully tended by my husband, and I can see the neighbor's garage across the alley.
Before our new garage was built I could see the house behind us and even over onto the next street. I saw trees and the movement of people and cars. It wasn't a rolling hills over the valley kind of view, but I enjoyed the quiet urban neighborhood view.
I am thrilled to have our new garage, especially as winter approaches, and the garage itself looks like a cottage with its window boxes and red door, but still, it has taken me awhile to adjust to the lack of a view. Or at least a view that changes or holds some interest.
Except, of course, for the next door neighbor's large overflowing flowering crab tree. The branches extend over our back yard, and right now they are full of bright orange fruit, lunch and dinner for the birds all winter. The branches sway with the breeze and remind me that beyond the shingled roof, there is beauty and bounty.
Here's what the view from my window can teach me:
* Sometimes to get a new view, a new perspective, I need to move, to go some place else, or do something different or new.
* Sometimes I need to let go of an earlier viewpoint or perspective. What was, isn't necessarily a reality anymore.
* Each view, each perspective has something to offer, but I need to open to it, awaken to it.
The other day I stood in the backyard and looked up at this tree, which is such a contrast to the other neighborhood trees. Instead, of rushing to empty and to become winter bare, this tree remains lush and abundant. Now that's a perspective I can try to adopt--to understand the ways in which I remain a tree of plenitude.
What new views await you? What change of perspective calls you? I would love to know.