Shell Game

I can see this is going to cut into my...um...productivity. See, you can't see me muffling a grin here, it sort of loses the effect...oh well.

I went to the park at lunch today, full of energy and wanting to experience and notice. Walking from my car, I noticed the locusts will bloom soon, and the oak leaves are getting bigger. The water is up from all the rain. I saw a turtle jump off an old tire, one corner slouching an inch or so out of the lake. I looked to see if turtles leave wake or air bubbles when they jump into the water. They don't.

Partway down the path I decided to walk somewhere different than I normally do, because seeing something for the first time makes it seem so vibrant. So I wandered around, getting a new perspective of the lake and the wetlands restoration, listening to the birds and watching them coast on the blowing wind. And I wondered, what is it about newness that makes something seem better? Why is my sense of wonder so fragile? Why, after a certain amount of time and familiarity do I begin to take things for granted? How can I shift into that heightened awareness all the time (or at least more of the time), instead of walking the familiar without seeing it, lost in thought? Because that's my pattern. Not just walks in the park, but relationships, clothes, whatever. It's a ridiculous little mind trick, really, but I've chained myself to it for a long time. Hmm. Still have to think on that...

I decided to say hello to the guy walking around pushing a shopping cart full of tin cans and a bicycle. He was dirty and scruffy and had a long cut on his nose. He asked if I was married & if I had children. He said his name was George. He made a lot of random associations and some of his responses didn't make sense to me. But it felt good not to ignore him. A lot of times we ignore "people like that", afraid they'll ask us for money or at least inspire guilt. God forbid we ever think of ourselves in that position (whatever it is). I like connecting with random people.

But of course, walking away from George brought me right back to my former musing. Why is it that we cut strangers so much more slack? If someone I knew acted strangely, made no sense, I'd attach a judgement to it, and maybe even reject them. We seem to expect so much more out of people we know, inject all sorts of stories into their motives, etc. But the innocence that we once met in them without all those stories attached is still under there somewhere. Where does it go? How do I return to it?

Another turtle jumped into the water as I passed by on the way to my car, this time from another direction. I wondered if it was the same one.