The weather has turned here, at least for the time being. We have been blessed this week with warm, sunny days. A welcome change from the months of dark, wet windy days. The town is waking up and tourists are starting to find their way back here while Christine and I head out walking and enjoying different hikes.
This morning we turned off of the main road and rambled along a boreen. A slight breeze rustled through the bramble. Birds singing and the occasional bleat of spring's newest lambs guided us on our path. As we approached a wet and muddy continuation of the path it was clear we'd go no further. Christine turned to head back while I stood leaning against a gate in a fence allowing the sun to wrap me in its warmth.
Looking out over the green fields lined with rock walls I was reminded of my first home in Vermont. There too the beauty of the acres that spread out before me offered a similar quiet calm to the day. It took a great deal of work to get that house and property to the home it was in the end. Not all my times there were happy ones, and looking back I know it was right to leave it as I had. Painfully learned lessons packed neatly away with the moving boxes now just a faded moment behind fonder memories. Standing at the fence today I could remember that place and time with love. With the distance of space and time, I suppose, it's the beauty that one really remembers.
Funny the things that rise up when we give ourselves space and time. Old ways that have outgrown their usefulness that we are able to detach from and let go. It's the way of mindfulness and certain meditation really, we all know it, but often find it elusive. Always searching for the right way to sit or still the mind. I'm just learning now to make my own path. Like today standing in my own stillness beside the fence. Or the quietness of a walk along the harbor, and the rhythm of walking the labyrinth. Each of these offers me the opportunity to still my mind, open my heart and allow.
The sun is beginning to set on this gorgeous day, and I think I'll walk out to the harbor and watch it sink down behind the mountains, allowing for moments of quiet, stillness and beauty.