Winter sneaked in last night and lies quiet on Halcyon Pond. The water is like glass, drawing me in, sinking me in reverie. Crashing branches, startle me. A great blue heron stumbles from his fishing, taking flight, lands clumsily in the trees. How do their wings survive such antics, I wonder. Crows call and a hawk screeches, claiming his territory.
I feed the fish, more to say hello than to provide them food, disturbing the surface of the pond. I have seen this so many times. Yet still I stop and marvel as the ripples extend and extend, eventually ruffling the entire pond. A simple movement at my feet carries hundreds of yards away, affecting the further shore. Each water droplet feels its neighbor’s shove, shoves its neighbor, and eventually the entire community is shaken.
I remember when I was a young manager, still in my twenties, still finding my way through the maze of challenges. An older man who worked for me became sick with cancer and quickly lost the battle. He was just 54, and even in my youth I knew that was too soon. We were not close, but he was part of my community and his departure left me shaken. I saw that we are like a net, knots and connecting threads, together forming a single fabric. I saw vividly the hole where his knot had been, felt keenly his absence, and started to wonder at the mystery of our interconnectedness.
It is something I still wonder at. I pray that as this new year starts, we recognize our interconnectedness, that we can bring just a little joy into our surroundings and watch peace ripple across our human pond.
[In a strange moment of synchronicity, as I was writing this post, I received word of the passing of Owen Homes, the founder of Carter and Homes nursery. He was a man filled with humor and wonder. He loved the beauty of orchids and built a business sharing that love worldwide. This post is dedicated to his memory. [Carter and Homes Orchids]