Crow Meditations

Today, after rising out of bed a little late (acceptable considering I’ve been quite tired lately and today was my day off), I tripped and fell face down on the floor as soon as I got up. Which to me seemed like a bad start to the day. Generally I find sleeping in to be terribly depressing. It doesn’t make sense, but if I wake up and it’s late, I am so upset that I have missed part of the day that I cannot find the strength to get out of bed, I just lie in despair and waste more of the day away. This summer I haven’t been sleeping in as late, due in part to the noise caused by having a three year old in the house, and also due to the fact that my concepts of time have changed slightly, as tiredness seems to settle in during the earlier hours of the evening, and my concept of what is late is shifted forward a bit.

It’s hard to imagine that one of the most beautiful hiking trails in the world can begin to seem tedious, but after hiking the same trail everyday it isn’t quite as exciting anymore. Not that I have lost my appreciation for it, because I am still just as enthusiastic as ever about the beauty of the trail and still find the inspiration to go there often. I guess my appreciation has just shifted over to a more softer enthusiasm, enjoying it not as something new but something that has become a bit older and weathered in my experience.

Today I was excited once again to hike a section of the trail that I had not done for a couple weeks. I was happy to get out and get some excersize and fresh air, and leisurely made my way over to the beach, picking thimbleberries all the way. I sat down on a driftwood log, looking out on the fresh ocean and still water separated by dark weathered rocks. I closed my eyes and sat still, clearing my mind and reaching a peaceful state but not trying to block thoughts from occurring. I opened my eyes every once in a while, just to survey my surroundings and appreciate the visual beauty that comes with the peaceful sounds and touch of ocean air.

I saw a crow, happily searching the ground for food and hopping about. It seemed perfectly content in what it was doing, enjoying this simple act that is nothing more than ordinary and everyday. This came across as a sort of epiphany to give me perspective on how I have been feeling about my life lately. I’ve felt at times throughout the summer that I’m not doing much with my life right now and aren’t accomplishing anything, which is not only a harsh judgement to give myself considering it is summer and I’m going back to school in the fall, but I also know that it isn’t completely true. I suppose a slower pace just takes some getting used to. I have always felt that people can do incredible things, and hope to do amazing things in my life. Not necessarily fame or hero worthy, but things that are fulfilling, inspiring, and leave a positive impact.

I’ve always admired animals for their simplicity. Birds are happiest just being birds, flying around and being free. Animals love to run, to just live out their lives in their natural habitat. I’ve seen expressions of pure glee on creatures of all sorts just doing what they know best, from galloping up a hill, splashing in a puddle, frolicking in the meadow, animals just need to be left to their own devices and they will be happy. Not to say that I think all animals of any one species are all the same, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. Individual animals still express differences and individuality, but not in the sense of being unhappy with who they are. Beyond basic means of survival, there are no responsibilities to fulfill, no competition for money, fame or success, and no constant striving for more. Animals know how to just be.

Although I have always been aware of this, seeing the crow, and another that flew over to join it, served as a quiet reminder. It made me think of my own position right now, and how a quiet and peaceful existence isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Although I don’t think people should give up ambition for consistency, I do think that most people are doing some admirable. I admire grandparents, parents, friends, anyone who shares an enthusiasm for life and for others. People’s kindness and compassion for others is the greatest inspiration I know.

And sometimes an elusive crow, just simply being and minding its own business, can be a peaceful reminder that not everything in life has to be big.