I thought of the mustard seed that often lies dormant for sixty years before it becomes a burst of color gracing the roadside, or the rock pile or the vineyard.
There’s a substantial part of me that has been dormant, taking a back burner to family and livelihood. Now it’s my time to germinate. Who knows. I might even bloom.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
There's a promise in
the journeys of the mind
You begin to believe that there are miracles you will find
And that someday you'll remember who you are
The seed within a bright and shining star_____John Denver,Wandering Soul
The Evil Little Man (ELM) and I (with Floppy Dog and the four parrots) logged
a few miles on the RV before first light that autumn morning.When dawn arrived, it looked like any ordinary sunrise on any
ordinary day.But it was the first time
in 48 years I had seen the sunrise overtheTexas town where I was born. Memories I didn’t know I possessed erupted
from a place inside me I didn’t know existed.A seldom-known sense of comfort and peace settled on me like the red Texas
dust after a sand storm. I thought that I could smell bluebonnets and
honeysuckle, though they had ceased to bloom months before.
It was all hauntingly familiar, but
it was not “ home.”
We moved on, heading further
south.The PLAN was to plunk down in
Galveston, and from there explore the Gulf—New Orleans, Mobile, and on to
So much for The PLAN.
I’d never even heard of this
obscure little coastal town in which we found ourselves on that Sunday
afternoon last October.I never planned
to be here. I didn’t even know where
“here” was. I did know that the Indian summer sun had sent the thermometer
soaring to 108.The RV’s air conditioner
was overworked and under achieved.We’d
blown out a tire on the boat trailer.Ourparrots were screaming, the floppy dog was whining. ELM and I were hungry,
frustrated and just plain tired.
So when we rounded the bend and viewed the white beaches,
frothy waves, proud old shrimp boats and shore birds of all descriptions, it
seemed like a good place to take a break.We found a lovely oak-shaded resort with its own marina and restaurant
on the bay.By the time we had slipped
the boat and finished dinner, I was enthralled with the view.But when we walked out on the dock and the
wild dolphins came right into our boat slip, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere
The following morning we took the boat for a sail.We had the entire 81 square-mile bay to
ourselves.The wind was steady and the
sea was gentle.There were butterflies
in the middle of the bay.The dolphins
were all around us.I felt as though
we’d discovered a secret paradise.
In the succeeding days, the bay has been quick to show us a
few of her tricks—fog, gales, rain storms, sunsets and rainbows; and just as
quick to share her bounty of fish and seafoodcaught with our own hands.The wild
dolphins know our boat now and they always come to greet us.We’ve made friends of seabirds and sailors,
natives and winter Texans.ELM
claimsthat this is the place he should have been born. I thought the
novelty of the area would wear off and we’d soon be on the road again.
Six months later, I still find myself waking before sunrise
each morning, looking forward to the day and wondering what new gifts await us here
in our version of Paradise. Where will we sail?What will we see? What will we
discover?Will there be shrimp or crab
or oysters or a new viariety of fish?
The people are
friendly and fun.The birds and wildlife
never cease to entertain.I find joy in
every sunrise and serenity in every sunset.Each day I become more
comfortable, more at peace.Each day is
a gift of new friends, new experiences and always a surprise.Will
there be torrents and thunder storms, or rainbows and butterflies?
I didn’t know what was missing.All these years I’ve suspected that I was on
the wrong path, going the wrong direction, but not knowing where to turn.I felt
out of phase and disconnected, as though Body, Mind and Spirit were somehow misaligned.But “sometimes on the way to your dream, you get lost and find a better
one.” (. ..River @ Drifting Through Life)
Against my “better”
judgment, I can feel myself putting down
roots.It’s risky business, getting
attached to people and places and things.Yet, it appears that this old stray dog has, at long last, found a porch
to call her own.