A day in the garden

It's not often that I get a day to myself, with no demands, no obligations and no "must dos."  In fact, I can't actually remember the last time one of those days presented itself.  But it did today, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. 

I spent most of the day outside.  I started with a long walk around my neighborhood with my dog, and when we returned, I found that the walls of my home couldn't contain my still-restless spirit.  So, with camera, and journal in hand, I went out again-seeking space, seeking breath, seeking peace.    

Initially, I was headed to my favorite canyon to hike, but I found myself drawn to Red Butte Garden, one of my favorite places in Salt Lake City.  Despite it being a much-loved place, I hadn't spent time there in a while, and after realizing how long it had been,  I changed my direction and went there instead. 

 The light was perfect, so I wandered the trails with camera in hand; enjoying the cool day, the sounds of the birds and the insects, and of course the flowers that, although they are beginning to fade with autumn's approach, are still staggeringly beautiful.

I walked the entire garden with my camera, waiting for the words I needed to surrender to the page.  After an hour of photographing the beauty I found all around,  I retreated to my favorite spot - the fragrance garden- and settled in to write.  I waited for few minutes, eyes closed until I felt the words on the edge of my breath, and then- I wrote. 

I wrote about feelings I hadn't known how to describe, and yet the words kept showing up.  I wrote about how I felt about my life, about what was going well and what needed to change.  I wrote about the joy I felt in where I'm at and how far I have come, and about the frustrations and questions I just can't quite get a lock on.  I wrote about the elation of watching my child learn to read and the lump I always get in my throat when she takes another big step towards independence.  I wrote about how blessed I am to be surrounded by wonderful and amazing friends and family and the loneliness that sometimes still sneaks up on me, catching me off guard.

 I wrote for well over an hour, my handwriting filling up pages and pages and pages and then, exhausted and emotionally drained, I simply sat there-silent-for almost another hour.

Tonight, as I was uploading the photos from today, I was struck by how much I needed today, how much we all need days like today.  I needed this time to myself, time away from the daily demands of life, work, motherhood, etc. to just reflect on where I am, how I am living, what I am giving, and what direction I need to be moving towards.  I'm not sure I am any closer to the answers, but I feel lighter and more peaceful after having handed over the burden of those words to the waiting pages. 

Survivor's Eyes

I recognized him by the slump of his shoulders, as if weighed down by all the forces of heaven and earth combined. He huddled against a chill no one else could feel, despite the fact that the sun burned outside. I noted the grief etched in his skin, in the shadows beneath his eyes. I watched as he dropped his weary head into his hands, and knew that he had fought a losing battle against too many sleepless nights. He sat silently inside hallowed walls, in a place that many come for peace, for strength, for mercy, and I watched as he unconsciously wrung his hands, rubbed his eyes. His whole body, every movement, seemed to offer a plea for salvation, a prayer for strength, for peace.

I recognized him through Survivor's Eyes.

I knew him because my shoulders had held the same weight, my body had whispered the same prayers. I recognized the grief, the desolation, the fear, and the weariness. Watching him, I was transported back to place where the days seemed to be an endless battle, and sleep was a long lost friend.

I wanted to sit beside him, take his hands in mine and tell him that I knew where he was, that I'd walked the road he was on now. I wanted to tell him that it's a cold, twisted path, full of brambles and thorns, but if you follow the light, it will lead you back to beauty and warmth. I wanted to offer words of comfort, of solace, to reassure him that the pieces of his heart can be put back together, and that the hole inside his soul will eventually close up, then scar over, then melt away. To tell him that one day he will recognize this in another, through his own set of Survivor's Eyes.

I wanted to offer something to this man, a man that I saw often but who was essentially a stranger to me. Still, it wasn't the right time or place, and so instead I offered him all I could. I spoke his name in prayer, and I sent him all the love and light and strength that the Universe had once offered me.

It's not a lot, but it's all I can do for him now. I hope that one day soon, he'll see this all through his own Survivor's Eyes.