Life just keeps going on. In the photo, an old fisherman prepares some of his gear on the banks of the Cathance River, getting ready to do what he does best. The grass is really starting to green-up now, and even a few dandelions are showing their pretty faces--all doing what they do best. The trees are finally starting to get a few buds on them, although it will be a while for full leaf-out yet. I can almost see them pulsating as their plump little buds plumpen further, just doing what they do best.
Everything’s like that: Doing what it does best, what comes natural, without even trying. I wondered about myself. Was I doing what I do best? I can be so hard on myself at times. Oh, the thoughts pour in about what I should be doing or what I could be doing. Sometimes there’s no end to what society tells me I ought to be doing. But maybe that’s part of doing what I do best. I don’t mean worrying; I mean making sure that I’m always thinking about things, always thinking. Always looking for the connection. That’s what I do best: Finding natural rhythms and expounding on their energy.
My scorecard isn’t going to have much on it at the end of today, but that’s okay because I got to see the swelling buds on the trees and I got to listen to the mating birds and I got to smell the scent of sweet grass. I’d say we all did our best and it came out just fine.
|Just doing what comes natural.|