Do you feel it too?
The comfort, the light ease of being. Even when it rains, the warmth. How good it feels to move through the air; how effortless the closing of eyes and the deep, slow inhale.
And then, just afterward, with almost the same breeze follows the settled soul. The quickness with which this pleasant satisfaction arrives is new, isn't it? It mirrors the shift in seasons. The more sun, the more warm air, the better I feel. Calmer, happier, more relaxed. Do you feel that way this time of year too?
Walt Whitman might be my very favorite poet. I was exposed to his work a little bit in college classes, but mostly indulged on my own -- especially in Leaves of Grass. Not only is his language delicate and perfect, but his sexual orientation -- Whitman was likely gay or bisexual -- makes his work especially relatable for me. I know that desire, I thought the first time I pored over the words. It felt like we knew each other, like we shared something.
It didn't surprise me, then, that when I heard the above quote in a recent commencement speech, it belonged to my friend Whitman. It reminded me immediately to be as appreciative of the dark (winter) as I am of the light (summer). Maybe if I start sustaining that now, it will coast me through the colder months, too.
Here's a little more from Poem of Perfect Miracles (read the whole thing here):
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a
miracle,Every inch of space is a miracle,Every square yard of the surface of the earth is
spread with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the
same;Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs,
of men and women, and all that concerns
them,All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.