I spilled 3/4 of a bag of trail mix on Wednesday. 3/4 of a kilogram, tumbling down between my camp chair and little garden table onto the one spot on the lawn where I'd neglected to scoop up the remains of late spring rakings. It took ages to clean up one minute's worth of open-bag distraction - yet, the usual round of "clumsy me/wasted time" mental rambles kept getting interrupted. Rather than berating myself, my self kept admiring how pretty the m & m s were against the dead grass clippings and old snow dust. Such a bright rainbow of happy scattered across the bald spot on the back lawn.
Brain rut, interrupted. The inner nag silenced by beauty.
At the end of every Liturgy we pray: "release me from the slavery of my own reasonings". I've often wondered just how that would play out. I think I know one way now: my reasonings may be on autopilot to berate me, but beauty can intervene.
Joining, as always, with Lisa-Jo. Do follow the link to check out other belated (and prompt) Friday writers.