I opened up the windows in my office today.
It’s chilly out, and they were not open for very long, but sometimes a girl needs fresh air inside. I get fresh air outside when I walk Jack, or sit out back, but there’s something different when outside sweeps through my inside, my closed off.
I tend to bundle up, mole up, in the winter time. Oh, let’s not lie, I tend to mole up most of the time, but occasionally I’ll hear the muffled sounds of the birds, or see the wind outside my window, moving the trees, and I feel something.
I could go outside, it’s right there. Instead I want to open myself up and invite it. It’s different. Sunshine through a window is different than being out in the sunshine. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s context.
Being out in the world, on a walk or climbing something is a vast canvas, an openness that is hard to grasp. Beautiful in it’s expanse, but big. Loud, even if it’s silent. When I invite nature in, she spills like a trickle through my tiny openings and touches me. Brightens my room, clears out the gloom, in a way I can almost hold. It’s really lovely.
So, today I wasted a little warmth in exchange for a bird’s song, cleaned out some cobwebs.
My thoughts from the laundry room. I’m Awake.
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