Daydreaming

Reverie is not a mind vacuum.  It is rather the gift of an hour which knows the plenitude of the soul.

~ Gaston Bachelard

The dogwood tree near the woods caught my attention on my walk today.  The early morning sunlight on the graceful curves of the branches and the petals of the blossoms (which are not blossoms at all but bracts; however, blossom sounds much prettier and I noticed it’s the word most people use) was so lovely that I spent a long time feeding my eyes and soul by just being there with the tree, marveling at its beauteousness.

I have no words for my time spent daydreaming with the dogwood tree.  I was reminded of this Mary Oliver poem (and she uses words so much better than I can):

I lounge on the grass, that’s all. So
simple. Then I lie back until I am
inside the cloud that is just above me
but very high, and shaped like a fish.
Or, perhaps not. Then I enter the place
of not-thinking, not-remembering, not-
wanting. When the blue jay cries out his
riddle, in his carping voice, I return.
But I go back, the threshold is always
near. Over and back, over and back. Then
I rise. Maybe I rub my face as though I
have been asleep. But I have not been
asleep. I have been, as I say, inside
the cloud, or perhaps, the lily floating
on the water. Then I go back to town,
to my own house, my own life, which has
now become brighter and simpler, some-
where I have never been before.

~ Mary Oliver

I have sat here for the longest time trying to come up with something more to say, but I am wordless.

Thank you for stopping by today and joining me in some dogwood daydreams.  Perhaps I’ll find my words tomorrow.

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