On Being, On Doing

On being, on doing.

So, what am I “doing” this morning on the front deck of my new home, Creatrix Cottage? Well, something quite unusual: I am “being”–mindfully seeing, listening, watching, and absorbing my surroundings.

Earlier, a gorgeous black-and-blue butterfly landed on the deck rail and gently raised her wings above her head to touch each other four or five times before she lifted off to flutter around the deck. I was so focused in watching her gracious movements, I didn’t think to grab my camera. Here, belatedly, is an image much like her.

In minutes, a small brilliant red object flies into a large nearby bush and disappears. I keep watching and then occasionally glimpse the male cardinal moving about behind the leaves.

Another sound–of humming–draws my eyes to the corner of the cottage. Flying at lightening speed, two hummingbirds burst around the corner in what is clearly an important mission for the pair. First, they dive and land on two red calla lilies that have grown higher than the deck rail. I marvel as they dip their stunning beaks deep into several of the open flowers. And, lastly, without warning, they rise together, flap their wings a few seconds, and then buzz off as quickly as they arrived.

The following few moments bring a chorus of several different birds, whose names I do not know. What I do know, though, is they are presenting a soft, sweet symphony like the varied instruments in an exceptionally talented band.

I reflect further: on being, on doing. Joy and peace fill me as I gaze at my small wooded slice of heaven-on-earth land as my senses fully absorb all that is present in what I see and hear and intuit.

For example, this autumn day is a marvel. Clean clear air. Low humidity. The low seventies temperature has replaced the previous high, humid nineties this sunny day. It is such a welcome relief from the summer’s long, long hot days.

I’m distracted when my sister, Bonnie, texts me. Her husband’s aorta valve replacement surgery is complete and successful. I am filled with tears and joy, she writes, and I discover that I am sharing them.

As I’m wiping tears away, my sweet beagle trots onto the deck and sits by my chair, emanating her ever-loving companionship. Several minutes later, she spots a squirrel on the ground 15 feet away. Instantly she takes off as if she’s trying to break an Olympic world record. Truth be told, the squirrel surely heard Addie and scurried right up the tree. Meanwhile, Addie sniffs around on the ground by the tree and seems puzzled. Perhaps she’s thinking I could have sworn there was a squirrel here. But several sniffs later, she returns to her former spot by my chair.

My daughter’s rescue Labrador, Lucy, is at the vet now. She’s fourteen and has Cushing’s Disease with a growth on her liver. Of late, she’s been slowing down in activity and eating. Yet, on the other hand of gloom, as I wait for Lucy’s return, in my state of “being,” I’m filled with deep gratitude that she is alive and very with us today.

Soon, a plane flies quietly overhead, pulling my thoughts elsewhere. My eyes fall upon my blue-and-yellow yard sign that says SUPPORT UKRAINE.

The plane’s hum fades as I remember the day I brought the Ukraine sign home. The day our very small community raised multiple thousands of dollars to donate to Ukraine. The extreme generosity of several local resident bands drew great numbers of folks for the all-day music event. At the end of the day, the result was staggering. Clearly, we had all deeply united on so many levels for the people of Ukraine. And, I delighted in realizing that, at long last, I had found true community in my new town.

Another sound, a horrific one, comes to mind as my thoughts shift to the brutally war-torn and tattered Ukraine. I can almost see the horrific sights and hear the sounds of the hate and destruction invading it at this very moment.

I muse further about other yard signs I would put out there if I had room: All lives and creatures and oceans and trees matter. The basic needs of every single human being and living creatures matter. A living wage matters. A health care system for all matters. A safe neighborhood matters. Schools and libraries who do not bow to banning books that tell the truth matter. This is our God-given country, our world! We’ve surely made mistakes as we’ve grown into the country we are today. But today we are admitting those truths and I respect that. They matter, as well!

Deeper thoughts follow, then, as earlier ones pass through mind and heart; I begin to sense my place on a virtual spiritual quilt unfolding in my mind. I am sitting close to the center of a gorgeous multicolored fabric quilt in a huge field of brilliant green grass. Fully present with me are all living beings and organisms in the world. Soon, I feel slightly dizzy as I know the entire world and I, together on that quilt, are slowly turning on Mother Earth’s axis.

Later, I revel in my fabulous moments of “being.” It is a fact that I have long vowed to live peacefully and respectfully, giving to each being I meet what I can to assist their journey. Kindness. Compassion. Respect. Honesty… and more. During these latest thoughts, the moment feels extraordinarily sacred. And I recall another time that I unexpectedly stepped into the unseen world, following a cornea transplant.

After holding this gift in my heart a while, I reflect on a personal truth. It is a fact: I’ve been a lifelong, non-stop “doer.” But in sharp contrast, this morning I’m overflowing with humility and gratitude for “being” with Mother Earth. And then a possible irony surges on being, on doing, in that: the more I can “be,” the more meaningful my “doing” can become. Can that be true?

I hold much hope.