Wanderings, Wonderings

It's one of those mornings where although it may not seem as if fall is in the air, it definitely feels as if summer is enjoying its last tattered days.
Spider webs are still with us, as are some of their makers,



while others have gone on to leave us their webs untended, sprinkled with the pollen of something blooming and catching the light in the morning in such a way that they are beautiful, even as they fall apart, even as they disappear.



I am a Gallop poll survey taker. Yes. Can you believe it? I did one last night concerning "well-being." Hmmm. I am sure I whacked the statistics a bit when I reported on the day I'd had before I took the poll. Had I enjoyed most of the day? Yes. Had I been angry most of the day? Yes. Sad? Yes. How can that be?
I don't know.
But that's how some days are. I can feel very sad, wake up with my eyes swimming with tears but still see clearly enough to take in the beauty of where I live, be grateful for it all, be aware of the shining blessing of my life, even as I feel despair, sadness, anger.

I seem to be a magnet lately for the religious. Since the two instances I reported on last week, I
have had two more. One was completely uninvited- a woman in the grocery store parking lot who, I suppose, sensing a person who would listen to her, went on for a good ten minutes about God and church and how children, if raised without religion have nothing to fear and that's why crime is so high. Because she was wearing scrubs and a turban and because she didn't mention Jesus, just a generic god, I listened patiently, telling myself the entire time to keep my mouth shut, to just let her talk. And I did. We ended up agreeing that it all comes down to love. I always try to steer these conversations there and it almost always seems to work.

Another conversation was with a woman whom I know is not going to try and convert me and who knows and respects me despite my irreverent leanings and sometimes profane words. She told me that she believes the host and the wine do indeed turn into the body of Christ when she takes Communion. It is not symbolic to her in the least.
"But, but," I stammered. "You know that when you swallow the host, scientifically it does not turn into human flesh in your stomach and the wine does not turn into human blood."
"Yes," she said, "But I still believe it."
"Okay," I said. And it is okay with me. She can believe that. We all have to believe something.

And then one night recently I was driving home on the interstate and it was getting towards sunset. The light came shining through some clouds and illuminated the trees in one of those moments that make you catch your breath and which, I am sure, is proof of God to some. I wondered why it is that humans seem to appreciate beauty so much. Why do we? Because you know we do. The light shining just this way, a flower blooming in early spring or late summer, the clear blue water of an ocean, a tree towering above us, putting it all into perspective.
"Maybe," I thought to myself, "That is God. That yearning towards beauty."

There's so much I don't understand. I don't even know what beauty is. I don't know why I can be angry or sad or depressed and still enjoy myself, still know what I have. I don't know much. And the older I get, the less I know.

Listen- getting older is so strange. I find plants in my yard that I do not recognize nor do I remember planting but surely, I did. Perhaps even last year.



I find myself telling my husband something and he says, "You already told me that." He does the same. I look in the mirror and am amazed to see this old woman looking back through my own eyes. I get up and my joints hurt and when I do certain postures in yoga, the skin falls in a decidedly not-young way. But in my mind, I am as full of wonder as I ever was, my brain asks questions like a three-year old or a teenager- why is the sky blue? why do we die? what happens when we die? why are we here? why does the sight of the light on the water make us cry? why do we crave beauty? why is there evil? why am I so shy and awkward? and what is the meaning of life?

Bless my heart, I do not know. If I have any inklings, one of them is that everything is connected. The plants and their breath, us and ours. The water goes back into the air as gas and comes back down as sweet rain water. Our bodies are filled with salt water, from whence we came. Eggs, pregnant bellies, breasts, the roundness of the moon, our planet, the giant bowl of space. Two hands, stretching out, finding each other in the darkness, two hearts, finding each other, stretching through the years.

I don't have anything funny to say today or profound, either, much less cosmic. Just here I am, here I am, part of something, a circle, a roundness, connected to all my foremothers and connecting them to the future through Lily and the baby who is to be born soon. Another soul to live, to breathe, to question, to hopefully shine a unique and powerful light of his own.
Another baby to love.
It all comes back to love. Somehow that is the answer to it all.

I think. I really do.
Meanwhile, I stare in wonder at the trees, the light, the flowers




and the ferns, I can be still and quiet in my soul, I can rejoice silently, even as I am overcome.

One of those questions on the well-being poll asked if I had love in my life. Answer, one to five, one being none, five being lots and lots. I had no hesitation- I marked five. Which is appropriate- one husband, four children. Add them up, it equals five. And soon, it will equal six, which that scale did not offer.

It didn't ask about light or ferns or chickens or begonias or grandchildren or the reaching out of hands in the darkness.

Oh well, it asked about love. That was good. That was enough.
Yes, I marked five, because there was no six. Or six million.
I am quite sure about the love I have in my life. Profoundly so. Gratefully so.

We all have to believe something.

I believe that.