I met a woman I know slightly, as I walked through town the other day.
We stopped and chatted for a bit. I knew her from Yoga; we had formed a friendship since we were partners in forming various poses.
We caught up with each other's lives, as neither of us go to Yoga anymore...Tai Chi seems to be more our style. Older bodies, you know.
She caught herself, as she told me about the various life events that had happened recently to her family...none of them joyous ones.
She commented on how, when we look back on the times in our lives, we generally remember the difficult occurrences, while the small pleasures get overlooked...and forgotten.
I remarked that perhaps the big, effervescent joyous ones don't happen as often as the large, doleful times. But she said there were so many small joys in her life, and those small joys made life bearable. But would anybody be interested in hearing how she had watched the first hummingbird at her feeder during this barely there Spring?
Would anybody be interested in the fruit tree that had blown over during one of this Winter's horrendous Wind Storms...but even with its roots bare and damaged and open to the Sky, it was covered with blossoms, more than it ever had before?
And would it keep people's attention, if she told them about her grandson, who, after being held back in Grade 2, finally grasped his lesson concepts...and was now at the head of his class?
She laughed and said she didn't want to be a Pollyanna...
I have always felt an affinity with those of us who notice the little, bright lights in life. The ones who delight in watching the waves hit the shore, sometimes slowly, and sometimes with a huge, thundering splash. Gardeners watch small miracles all the time...in the unfurling of a Butterflies' wings, in the families of Birds, whose greatest joy is finding a large Worm, in the Daffodils and Tulips that bloom so brightly even in the face of terrible, inclement weather. And I enjoy hearing about them from others.
I notice, however, that recounting the tale of a small miracle brings embarrassment to some...as if noticing such a small slice of life is not worthy of mention.
It shows the sensitive nature of the person. And sensitivity is not much admired in a rough, tough world, where hiding emotions is more the norm. Unless the person is very comfortable with himself, it is perturbing to show this inner part. The part that still insists on seeing wonders.
A strange thing happens, when this kind of vulnerability is shared. Almost furtively, their eyes darting away from mine, until finally a level of comfort is reached...they will tell me of an amazing occurrence in their lives. And wait for my reaction.
It is always a smile, and another similar story from me. Before I know it, the person's energy field lightens, becomes brighter, more wondrous! I watch a surprise weight being lifted off shoulders. I am the lucky recipient of many stories of budding awareness of Mother Nature and her miracles.
We parted, my friend and I, each with a lighter step, each having reached another step on the ladder to friendship...
After all, Pollyanna is one of my favourite characters.