Last week, I felt as though the Universe was pitching me one opportunity after another to notice what was beautiful. It had been a few weeks of navel-gazing for me (don't say you didn't notice) and the simple act of looking up—or looking at something other than my navel—was a huge relief. Herewith is a brief guided tour of those moments I couldn't ignore.
LEFT: Things that weren't blooming two weeks ago were suddenly in bloom last week. (FYI: We're parked in a city that falls in Plant Hardiness Zone 7a.) Fuzzy buds appeared on (pear?) trees and were replaced (overnight?) by tight green clusters that look capable of bursting. In case you're not in a hardiness zone above 5a, rest assured: I found proof that spring is en route.
RIGHT: Crossing a street on foot, in broad daylight, I saw stars. Bona fide constellations in the thermoplastic road markings. This seemed particularly lucky.
LEFT: I followed arrows that emerge from underground. Look over there, they suggested. So, I did. This one pointed to the late afternoon sun.
RIGHT: I observed an old man whispering and petting a tree. I found a reason to pass by the tree again, after the man had left it. What did I see? Islands like puzzle pieces. The geography of bark. Also, chain stitch embroidery.
I'd love to see what you discover without seeking. Hit 'reply' and attach a picture of your findings.
P.S. I've got a bonus for you. Here's a GIF made from rapid-fire iPhone snaps:
From the pedestrian bridge at the botanical gardens, we watched an employee scatter food pellets. I adore the murky watercolor of the pond fish swirling beneath the surface, and the rush of color when the geese enter the scene.
Notes from the week of February 21
READ & NODDED MY HEAD
+ "I wish someone had told me that you have to be the biggest, boldest, bravest version of who you are, because that is how your people will find you. And they will find you"
+ "Astrology can help readers reframe conceptions about themselves and make sense of personal emotional landscapes. The truth does not come from the horoscope itself, but in the meaning that a reader takes from it"
LOCAL COLOR EXPERIENCED
+ Myriad Botanical Gardens
+ Oklahoma City National Memorial
+ a long Saturday walk through Bricktown (verdict: aside from a few pockets of people, it was a completely deserted, zombie-apocalypse-type city on the weekend)
+ the first line of my February horoscope (which I happened to read today, nick of time!) from Madame Clairevoyant: "This month, you can find what you’re looking for, and if you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’ll find what you need"