Wide sky

You could write a poem about a day with a wide sky; a day enlivened by the wind of the breathing Earth.

But maybe the day itself is a poem? A poem that you live, and afterward try to capture in words. Sky so wide with possibility; a beautiful blue page across which to drift your thought clouds. 

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I read a recent post from author Rebecca Solnit. She came across a man pruning a flowering magnolia tree, collected what had fallen to the ground, and carried it home. She wrote, we are all battered magnolia blossoms right now, who want to be gathered up and seen. 

It felt deeply true, truer than facts, true in the striking way that belongs only to metaphors. 

Certain metaphors send a jolt of recognition through us. Yes, we think, that's exactly how it is. Why didn't I see that before?

We can all think and create using metaphors, of course; this is one of humanity's gifts. But perhaps to develop this gift, we need to notice what is in front of us, be open to its teaching, and listen to what arises from within us in response.

Seen through a certain lens, our daily lives are poems. Tales. Myths. Rich with unexpected connections, symbols, signs, analogies, associations, archetypes, characters, metaphors. 

Through metaphor, we can understand the connections that are already here, waiting for us to see them. 

We can create connections between experiences that initially seem disconnected...a faceted narrative that we can turn this way and that, reflecting our lives back to us in a new form.

We can make meaning out of what we dismiss as meaningless. Frame difficult realities so they are easier to bear, and add untold depths to our joys and sorrows. 

It is up to us. A wide sky can be seen as nothingness...or, it is our most expansive, unbounded selves, unfolding into the cosmos, as far and as wide as our souls and hearts can imagine reaching.