It’s Good to be Otherworldly

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At times, time should just stop. Hold its breath, keep confidence with every secretive thing because some little happening occurs, a tiny treasured thing appears, as small as dust in air perhaps but so perfect in its lack of discipline as to be solace beyond words, a wonder like a young child’s hair lit by a momentary ray of sunlight to become more beautiful than all the votive flames that ever lit the night, like a killdeer’s evening call fluting out from where it hides in the tall grass.

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. . . an hour in which enforced quiet time in a waiting room is transformed into time for invention in the sketchbook . . .

Let the treasury of life be honored by our awed obeisance, however brief, as we take our meditative pause to contemplate those little motes of sweetness that make up, in total, something so ethereal and grand–the sharp, resinous perfume rising from a path through piny woods on a sun-baked day; that bright mercurial flash of a school of tiny fry all turning in the shoals at once, glinting; an amorous bird showing off its vocal flashiness from a leafy grove across the way . . .

graphite drawing

. . . a piece of rustic dark bread with butter melting into it . . . .

May we never forget to stop, if only for that little moment, to absorb the pleasurable surprise of living in the midst of millions of small miracles each night and every day, even if they’re often lost to us as too minute to catch our notice. The air we breathe is redolent with them–each step we take can draw us further into that precise great incident of wonder that should startle every heart into eternal admiration.

32 thoughts on “It’s Good to be Otherworldly”

  1. Indeed, well said, I totally agree with you, i personally believe that, if everyone in the world took a single second, just one, to watch the last rain drop slip effortlessly of a blade of grass and splash into oblivion, that as you said, it would ” draw us further into that precise great incident of wonder that should startle every heart into eternal admiration”.

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  2. It was so lovely to stop and see your “small miracles” drawn and written here today. You’ve perfectly described the sensation of awakening to the gift of these precious and fleeting bits of time:) xo Smidge

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    • In some ways, I think the smaller they are, the larger the impression they can make on us ultimately if we really pay proper attention.
      Big hugs to you, my dearest!
      Kathryn

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  5. Eloquently (is that a word?) put… Photographing the gardens in early spring is all about the little things. You have to tune in to see them, and lie on your belly on the still-cold, still-damp gound to shoot them…focus on the flowers, though, and you never notice the seeping cold.
    I’m with you on the bread and butter, too.

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    • Yes, it *is* a word, and one I relish as a great compliment, my dearest!

      Now, while I agree with you entirely about the garden and bread and stuff, I do think that the best thing would be if I could lie down to photograph tiny wonders in the garden while nestled in a buttered slice of warm bread. Messy, but delicious! 🙂

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      • I do my share of lying on the ground to photograph tiny wonders, but I usually lie on a foam pad, which may be less comforting than a slice of warm buttered bread, but is less messy.

        If you care to say, did something particular put you in the frame of mind that led to this post?

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      • Steve, I don’t remember for sure the exact sequence, but I think I was sitting and listening to Richard rehearse something with one of his choirs and was struck by how fleeting sight and sound and moments all are that yet add up to great and lasting joys. You of all people are supremely conscious of the beauties of minute and miraculous things, given your love of flora and other wonders of nature and your attention to the magic that can let one changed letter alter the meaning of a whole word, phrase or idea in etymological evolution.

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  6. Well said, Kathryn. We are so blessed and I’ve found that days started with thoughts of gratitude tend to go better than those that don’t. Funny how that works. Be thankful and you’ll find/receive more things for which to be thankful. 🙂

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    • So very true, my dear John. The more we devote our attentions to how incredibly blessed we are, the more we realize how those blessings multiply. Not least of all, the wealth of good friendship and companionship we are able to grow out of being happy, conversant beings out here in blog-land! 😀

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    • And I am so thankful for friends like you among whom I can contemplate such things! Even if my drawings of flowers and bread-and-butter are extremely artificial (I think it’s safe to say there’s no such variety of blooms or butterflies occurring in nature, nor does that slice of bread resemble an actually edible one), the sentiment behind them is genuine enough to bridge the gaps!

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    • Thank you, dear Antoinette, I am filled with happy sighs myself every time I get to visit over at your place! Another great blessing I can count as very welcome. 🙂

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  10. Oh, Kathryn, I believe this is my favorite of yours thus far! And I can’t decided which is more delicately drawn…your sketches or words. Or, of course, your wisdom! I MUST share this…onto Facebook it goes!

    Thank YOU for sharing!

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  11. If everyone stopped just once a day to understand, admire, and allow themselves to be struck by how many little miracles there are every day, I do believe almost all sadness would be wiped out. Even just the fact that we’re all still breathing is a miracle in itself – in the huge projection of inhospitable darkness we call space, the conditions were JUST SO in this one spot that they enabled life as complex as us to emerge. It’s nothing short of awe-inspiring. We’re all made of stardust.

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