On the top of where the deep, green, creeping juniper arches, there was a bright, handsome, male cardinal eating berries. In swooped a male blue jay whose immense size put the cardinal on high alert. He, too, began munching berries, but at the flat base of the plants, closer to the house. Then, just as the scene triggered an early childhood wish to be able to see both of these birds together, something amazing happened: a butterfly dashed across the yard, the female cardinal appeared on a pine tree branch, a bumblebee flew to the vinca and hopped from flower to pink, trumpet flower. Goldfinches arrived on their thistle seed-filled sock feeders and a common northern mocking bird landed in the driveway, which led my eyes down to see a pair of mourning doves scouring the ground for treats. At that moment, the sun burst through the fluffy, white clouds that mostly blanketed the sky, revealing bright blue that reflected on the lake, where a silhouetted squirrel hopped over the landscape's horizon.
It was a scene right out of Snow White.
The collective whole was symbolically telling me to not be so serious about something so trivial when, if I just open my eyes and release my silly, hurt self, there is so much beauty to be seen which helps the ego to rest peacefully and just let it flow into a new moment, being ever-present.
Just in case I forget what matters, the universe is happy to remind me and, fortunately, I am grateful to receive her song. I guess it does the same for others in whichever way they need to be shown. For me, that comes in the form of reminding me that there is so much more that is seemingly, infinitely smaller and equally, infinitely larger than a moment that will, ultimately, be nothingness.
Little bit harder, just a little bit more,
A little bit further than you've gone before.