Today after writing for 8 hours straight I decided to take a break. I walked over to High Park and came upon a path I’ve walked a hundreds times before. But today was different. From what seemed like out of nowhere, I stepped into a rainfall of dandelion petals. They flew as high as I could see and completely surrounded me; it was like a scene from a movie. It was so beautiful I could barely breathe. People walked in front of me and behind me to cross the path, not even stopping to notice what was happening. And as I stood there, relishing the moment, unable to move, I was brought to tears. They were in part due to being deeply moved by something so rare and beautiful, and in part because it saddened me that no one else noticed; that something so magical to me was so ordinary to most. But above all, the cause for my tears was that it dawned on me how rare it is these days, for me to experience a moment of pure stillness.
Recently there has been a consistent sense of urgency in my life to ‘do’ something, to ‘go’ somewhere, to ‘complete’ something. I’m a busy gal with lots of deadlines.
Yet, in that moment of spaciousness, standing still among the dandelions became the most important thing I had to do.
It was a moment without need.
And I began to weep because it’s been a while since I’ve had a moment like that. It felt profound and overwhelming. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter that my foot was injured, that I didn’t have a partner, how much money I made or how quickly I completed my book. All that mattered was that moment. It was just me and the dandelions.
I want more dandilion moments.
Think I’m going to create some. ;)
Thank you for sharing this my lovely friend. I love these moments — not enough people notice them or put much thought into how profound something so simple can be. Xoxo. ~ Lala
Comment by Lala Yu — May 25, 2010 @ 6:21 pm
Dear Tamara,
I wonder often if these moments are a gift meant only for us when they occur. Others walk by seeming not to notice, but perhaps they are coming from or returning to “moment without need” meant as a gift, only for them. The earth has her ways of informing all of us and perhaps we all receive differently. The grief, I feel in these moments, is not based on others not noticing. For me, the grief readies me for holding a greater reciprocal relationship with the earth and a willingness to receive her grief as well as her beauty. –With Love, Timothy
Comment by Timothy Dukes — June 4, 2010 @ 12:37 pm
Beautifully said. Thanks kindly for your comment Timothy. Namaste, Tamara
Comment by Tamara — July 27, 2010 @ 9:58 am