Poetry, Life

Succulent Shadows

Finding moments of awe

They fell upon the page like ink, dripping from the sea of awe, unintended shadows, unseen before.

To look with open hearts and eyes, to open to the divine nectar flowing through our veins and gilding every leaf and branch, to dance with hawk song and cricket calls and symphonies of frogs…

This is awe.

This is awe.

And this is all we really need to know.

While writing in my journal the other day, I set it down upon a little outside table while I took a sip of tea. I have been very consciously thinking about finding moments of awe throughout the day as the antidote for sinking into a bit of depression caused by some turbulent forces in my life right now.

This is what I saw — the shadow of the succulents growing in little copper pots. I traced the shadows with my pen, marveling at how the universe can startle you with the obviousness of her lessons sometimes.

There are phases in life, which everyone goes through, when you suddenly open your eyes one day and realize that the reality you had perceived is not reality at all. There are always subtle forces at work beneath the surface. It’s like the currents of the river swirling beneath a glistening sheen of smooth sunshine-slicked water.

There is beauty all around us. Always. But we forget, sometimes, to see it.

My husband and I have been reminded in recent days that true family is the family you create, not the one you are born into or inherit through marriage. Severe mental illness has ripped our family apart recently, and the seams of that world now need to be re-sewn. Once they are, the fabric of reality is going to look very different. I’m not at all certain that the pieces are going to fit back together in a way that resembles anything we knew before. But maybe that is a good thing. Maybe we were trying to fit together pieces of a puzzle that we were never meant to finish. Maybe we now understand the violence of the words which we have been lashed with so many times for so many years. Maybe it is time to step back and let others figure out their own lives. Maybe they will find some awe as well in the new reality that they stitch together. It is my hope that they do.

One thing that I know to be true is that, despite the turbulence, there is always beauty on the river, or in the unseen shadows, or in the heart of a friend. The things in life which cause us the most pain are expectations for the future to be a certain way. We tend to cling to our beliefs so tightly that we can’t let go long enough to see that there is always another path, oftentimes, a better route.

I’ve been trying to collect “droplets of awe” lately. I think it is the key to happiness. To see the unexpected and embrace it, even if it is something as simple as the shadow of a succulent plant falling across your page, can bring great delight.

As I write these words, I am listening to the chatter of the Orioles, who have recently returned, and to the squirrels scampering up the trees, and to the pair of hawks nesting in the pine trees overhead. And there is such perfection in these moments. They are whole. They are part of the whole. They are all that we really need to know in the space between this breath and the next.

I believe that the universe is constantly receiving our little moments of perceiving beauty, and that she thrives on them. And it is my intent to keep tasting these droplets of ambrosia.

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

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Story and photos ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.