under a rock

"Plants and birds and rocks and things" (Dewey Bunnell)....these are the things that give life to my days. Waking in the early morning, before the sun rises, and hearing the birds wake and start to chirp. Sitting on the porch with my morning coffee, hearing the leaves scuttle across the road. Smelling the heady aroma of a Japanese iris while strolling through a beautifully landscaped garden. And rocks.

So many rocks are beautiful to look at--quartz and marble, diamonds and emeralds--but those are not the rocks we often find in our day to day. Oftentimes, the rocks we come across are in our way, or are deeply embedded in our path. Others tumble away when we stumble upon them. Worst of all, though, are the rocks with rot and decay hidden under them.

When I think of what is under a rock--worms, bugs, ants, wet, death and decay--I turn away. Although sometimes the view is fascinating, I usually resist the urge to lift a rock. Instead, I consider the beauty of the rock. The strength and support of the size and shape. And, more often than not, I stand on the rock.

That's where you'll find me--standing high on a rock, arms outstretched, the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, smiling and praising the universe, God, and nature. Feeling unabashed joy.

Me? Under a rock? Never.