I love clean windows!
Looking out on the world through worn, scratched and paint flecked windows has long been a minor vexation for me. So the recent chance to replace all of our windows with energy efficient, planet-helping (but mostly clean and shiny!) new ones has been the highlight of my year. We live in a home where many of the windows were fixed and air flow was greatly restricted. So we also took the opportunity to reconfigure some of them, so that we now have fresh air throughout more of our living space - talk about a win/win!
Updating the windows has thrown my already entrenched window-gazing habit into high gear - and our new world view has caused me to go deep into reflection (sorry...). So here are some thoughts generally related to how we "see" things and why shaking up that view can be good for head and heart.
Shortly after our new windows were installed, we had a quick and highly satisfying visit from my sister and her husband, her son, daughter in law and their young family in tow. I was scrambling around to find toys for the little ones - our stash is fairly scanty- but I happened upon a bonanza in the garage when I discovered a box of transformers collected long ago by my son, and a group of WWF action figures, as both my kids were quite the wrestling fans when they were young...go figure. ( In fact the wrestling action figures now include at least one former governor of a midwestern state - but that's a story for another time). So I gave myself a mental high five as I set about washing them all in warm soapy water and happily anticipated the yelps of pleasure from my little grand nephew when he came through the back gate to see them proudly arrayed out on the deck.
Our guests arrived while daylight was just beginning to wane and as I led them from the driveway through the gate, my grand nephew raced ahead. As he got into the yard, he gazed up at our trees, then down at the ground, and let out a an excited holler. "Wow" he shouted gleefully to his grandparents and his big sister. "Look at all these acorns!" He immediately sank to his knees, loaded up a yellow plastic truck he had brought with him, and spent the next few days loading and transporting his precious cargo from one site to another. In fact he asked for a small sack in which to transport some of his acorn booty back to his Lousianna home - we were only too happy to oblige. Watching him play so imaginatively with his acorn stash was such a powerful reminder of the value of having "fresh eyes". What we had construed as a nuisance was absolutely magical to this young boy, and the avalanche of acorns dropping daily was proof to him of a generous and abundant universe. I must confess that since his visit the pinging of acorns on the roof and the patio table has a much more joyful quality and my backyard sweeps of our bumper crop of acorns have triggered smiles as I marvel at the volume of them. Seen through a child's eye, the acorns are an ongoing celebration, one I hope I can continue to "see".
The day after Thanksgiving offered another chance to see something familiar in a novel and riveting way. I live near the Live Oaks Friends Meeting House and their gathering place boasts a "Skyspace" designed by artist James Turrell. They open the space each Friday about an hour before sunset and invite the community in to view sunset through what is essentially a large cutout in the roof, which rolls open so that you are gazing directly at the sky. As I sat in the pew looking up, at first I was not sure if I was viewing the sky or light reflected from a skylight. A flock of migrating birds, then a passing airplane quickly oriented me to the reality that I was watching a "slice of sky". And what proceeded to happen in that space in the next hour is really impossible to capture in language. Much of the time, the light appeared gauzy, with tiny wisps of peach, pink, and then deepening shades wafting by. While the picture appeared unchanging to a casual glance, fixed attention to that sliver of sky revealed huge shifts from moment to moment. But the real action began shortly after sunset. Our sliver began to shift through a spectrum of shades that I have never before witnessed. From a gray blue to an incredibly celestial blue then to almost an electric blue, segueing then into an intense midnight bluish purple, before doing a slow fade into a blue black. As the colors faded, the stars began to pop into view - much like diamonds suddenly dumped out onto black velvet. The only sounds in the meeting house were people breathing and occasionally murmuring to themselves. At one point my eyes stung and filled - both from the intensity of the looking and the heart bursting wonder of "seeing" something available everyday - as I had never seen it before. Let me just say this, the thankfulness I felt the day before increased exponentially with each minute I remained seated. As an opportunity to be present and grateful, I highly recommend it.
And in this profoundly lovely and slowed down time of year - here's to "seeing" with more than just our eyes.
