Pull your chair up close, prop your feet up on the sill and lean back. Start with what is close by, just on the other side of the glass, then slowly raise your gaze up to the middle ground. Notice the movement--snow falling, wind blowing. Take in the stillness of all that does not bend or dance. Watch as living things run or fly through the scene.
Let the focus of your eyes soften. Sit with the interior gusts, the metal patio furniture that resists rearranging in your mind. Your job now is not to change the scene, but to watch and wait--as if nothing is wrong here. As if seeing is easy when we slow down enough to look.
Move your eyes up to sky, wide like possibility and deep like mystery. When clouds meander and planes draw a steady line overhead, note how the world keeps moving even when you are sitting still. Remember that you do not spin this planet, with your toil or all your activity or angst. Listen as if the answers will someday find you. As if the silence itself can heal.
Read more January 2014 writings here.