I freely admit that I fear heights, yet my eyes constantly seek the endless stretch of gentle blue above me. This morning I finally saw the sweep of sandhill cranes rising, falling, the lift and bend of their wings cutting gracefully through the cloudless expanse. I had no time to photograph, nor could my little cell phone do justice to the sight. I pulled my car to the soft shoulder and watched.
I moved through my work day a little easier for the experience. Those creatures exist completely apart from the grind of machinery and the chatter of human existence. I envy their effortless flight across the heavens.
In the last few weeks, I’ve been struggling with a situation which I must endure through almost no fault of my own, which will never be abated, and which causes me some difficulty. The challenge for me lies only partially in dealing with the unpleasant stamp on my life. That’s troubling enough, but the incongruity rankles more. I strive to reshape my point of view, forsaking the negative, abandoning complaint. I must either ignore the origins of this particular annoyance, or twist this circumstance into a shape if not tolerable, then at least instructive.
I’ve been struggling toward that goal for four years. I admit that I’ve not yet attained a state of grace with this one. I do not want my soul to rot, so I can’t just build a box around it, nor can I force the sad affair into a corner of my heart. I’ve exhausted myself scraping away decades of old rot. I loathe risking a new accumulation.
So I bid my spirit to hold itself still. I watch the cranes fly over the meadow here on Andrus Island. I open my heart to the dancing air on which those majestic beings soar. I’ve seen the Delta winds cleanse this earth of heavier burdens than mine.
It’s the twenty-ninth day of the sixty-first month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.