A new day.
It’s a bright, sunny morning
Lifeboat, by Miranda Lee Richards
Each day a new beginning
That song is lodged in my brain permanently. How many obscure (let’s be kind to Miranda) artists have written small gems like Lifeboat? And those gems are hidden forever by time and an avalanche of average vomited up by the machine, invisible even to the persistent Seeker.
I heard the song once. Jason Bentley played it and I was driving around doing something and that was enough to place the gem in my open hand.
How many Lifeboats have I never heard? And not just songs. Books. Poems. People. Sunsets. A stranger’s laugh. A sky filled with clouds on a windy day. How many of these glories of life were invisible, within reach, and yet passed by unnoticed?
As many as I have missed, there are yet in front of me to experience. If I see them.
How do I see them? By doing what I did on Monday. Stop. Go to the beach. Have a corn dog. Walk around with no purpose in mind. Go down that street and see what is at the end of it. Nothing! The harbor. Some workmen eating lunch. Boats.
Slow down. This morning, slowly drink your coffee. Hear the sounds of the birds, the neighbors, the distant hiss of the freeway.
None of it is going anywhere. There is enough.