Cruising

Sometimes as I drive at night with my windows rolled down, seeing lights and stars, I think of how big the world is, and then I get this incredibly small feeling.

As I look across the stoplight-streaked sky, I see power and the future in the inanimate and learn to appreciate the smell of ozone. The rumble and grumble of motors parallel to me breathe stories of others, just like me, trying to get somewhere.

I get the same small feeling when I run.

Sidewalks turn into stories, and personified homes and vehicles speak.

The oxygen flowing in and out of my lungs is like cool, refreshing mist on my face bringing fragments of history to flow through my pores and veins.

Children's laughter or wind fill my ears with better sound than any produced by man, and the smell of grass winds through my nostrils and through the smile on my face.

When my muscles begin to ache, or I feel my strength start to dwindle, I appreciate my limitations, and take comfort in knowing the warm shower will soothe me, followed by the cool pillow cradling my cheek.

When I wake again, it's a new opportunity to taste reality and realize just how small I am. It's a good kind of small - an appreciative 'small'. A small that allows me to step back and SEE... truly SEE.

It's incredible what you can miss when you're too busy and BIG to experience and enjoy it.

Hope is the window, though ~ the window to truth, perspective, and happiness. Go ahead and open it, and cruise.