How can you go to the mountains and not feel inspired to write? I'm sitting here having those thoughts and that lack of inspiration has inspired me.
I've spent a lot of time traveling from my home to the mountains of Colorado. It is my favorite place to visit and eventually we will end up here permanently. Flying into this state is never the same as driving. I think it's the anticipation of the mountain range that creeps into view as you travel that long unwinding road.
Sitting here I'm still annoyed that I'm writing about how normal it feels to be among the rocks and trees and the green of being at higher altitude in the spring. The river water is ice cold from the mountain melt. The water runs high through creeks and crevices that will be bone dry by July. All of this should make me want to write something prophetic and yet I see it with old eyes.
I guess life happens like that. We see the same things day after day and we forget to wonder about it all. I look at the green of my grass and see the chore of mowing. I used to see the way that light reflected to make that one blade of dew covered grass shine like a kaleidoscope. When did my eyes grow up?
So in this moment the inspiration strikes. I'm sitting in a log cabin. Two days ago when I slipped my shoes off at the door I noticed little sandals. My mind created an adult weekend spent being creative. Little shoes at the door were not something I was excited about but those little feet came with little giggles and little smiles. After the first night I could see the gift that these little people would bring to my next two days, new eyes to see and new ears to hear. I saw the charcoal sketched across the stone bench. The art of little people made with X's and O's. They watched us paint and sketch and as if by magic all four children modeled the adult behavior.
Wow, is it really just that easy? I would not have guessed that four little children would remind me that even when they don't belong to you, we still owe it to them to teach, to listen and to share.
I guess that's the trick of being human. We need to keep our eyes open, not just to look, but to really see. To make new from the old and mundane and to find the blessing in it. I guess I found that this morning when I prepared to leave the cabin in the mountains, seeming so small from outside until I entered with those eyes that could see.