Birthday Ruminations

Comfort is a death sentence to discovery.

That memorable moment doesn’t come knocking on my door, walk over to the couch, where I am sprawled out and say, here ya go, here’s your special moment of the day.

I have to pick my sorry butt up and make my way out into the sometimes harsh world to discover that moment. It takes effort, anything worthwhile takes effort.

In our fast paced, fast food culture comfort seems to be what people strive for. The second an uncomfortable feeling arises, we medicate in some form or another and numb the annoying sensation dis-ease. Some have become so accustomed to live in this protective bubble, desensitized to possibilities, desensitized to life.

This was my “aha” moment the morning of my 71st birthday.

I got this crazy idea to be at a local lake for sunrise on that morning. The alarm went off at 5 am. I was so warm and comfy under the covers. It seemed to be complete madness to hoist myself up and out into cool, dark morning air, but I did.

​​Arriving at the lake, with only seconds to spare, I checked my magic hour app, 1 minutes and 37 seconds and counting to the golden hour.

I perched myself at the edge of the pond, there I met two dear friends. Solitude and Silence, gateways to the divine. I put down my camera to take this dynamic duo magic. My breath deepened and paused at the end of each exhale. Within each pause, I welcomed Presence.

​The mist, hovered over the pond preforming a slow and elegant dance, two steps forward, two steps back. Color began to wake. Then there was this lone loon. It’s haunting and solitary call sent chills up my spine. There was an underlining tone of melancholy in its impassioned wail. I wondered what it cried for? What do any of us cry for?

Several minutes passed, there my camera sat. I wasn’t quite ready to leave this divine moment.

​There I stood on my 71st birthday, far from alone. I was with Solitary, Silence, Presence and the loon. A perfect birthday party.

Alternatively, I could have just rolled over and gone back to sleep.


Live in color,

​Abby