The Transforming Power of Space

I was up early with the puppy. He was restless in his cage, so I grumpily peeled myself away from my warm husband and warm bed, put my socks and shoes on, and zipped up my puffy jacket, all the way up to my ears. I was cold.

In the dark, I fumbled for Wiggin’s leash, knowing full well, that even at this early hour, he would jump from his cage and bound throughout the cabin with the excitement only a puppy can manifest.

I was not in the mood.

Once leashed, we stumbled through the dark cabin, making our way to the door, with Wiggins pulling me along, every inch of the way.

I fumbled yet again with the locks and the lights, finally opening the door as Wiggins bounded out into the silent morning. As we exited the cabin, the haunting sound of a bugling elk greeted me. His ancient song of ritual and sex echoed in the canyon, bounding off rock, absorbed into the surrounding Aspen.

Wiggins continued to pull me down the steps, urged on by smells reserved only for our canine friends.

The silence was immense.

And in that moment, something shifted inside of me. I felt like…well… my ten year old self again…a time I thought long gone. And yet she was there, with me, vividly. That young self who still stands in awe before the beauty of a moment; who still loves the sharp bite of a fall day on her skin; who still breathes Mother Earth’s bountiful air in deeply and reverentially…big gulps of her.

For those early, still moments, I was my ten year old self again, watching the light of the sun expose the jagged peaks of the mountains. My ten year old soul stood in silence, observing the clouds roll down the mountain, like down blankets, covering the valley and hiding cabins. And then just as suddenly, the clouds retreated, climbing back up the mountain, and covering the peaks once more.

The moon had its own show. I watched its sensuous dance with the clouds and the sky. Shining brightly one moment, and other times, illusive to the eye, hiding behind the clouds that lazily moved through the early dawn atmosphere.

And then just as suddenly, the bugling stopped, and the sun came up. I was watching intently, waiting for its arrival. But that’s not how it works with the sun. It has its own plans, does its own thing; a gentle revealing of the day; a gradual shift from dark to light; a sudden warmth on the skin.

Gratitude…gratitude that my grudgingly early morning was transformed into something bigger then myself. Thank you sweet puppy! Because of you, I got to share that precious moment with the earth. I got to hear and feel and smell her gentle peace.

And my ten year old self? It seems that she wants to stay. I think I’ll let her. I like having that soul of a child around. It is me after all; and I need her more than ever. I need her spirit and tenacity. I need her joy and freedom. I need to remember what it was like to look at life with breathless awe.

Aging smooths the ragged edges of early adulthood, but it can also blind us to living. I have been living in gray…my ten year old self lives in brilliant colors of newness and excitement.

And this morning, I remembered and felt that part of me that will never die. I call her my ten year old self, but perhaps she is just really me; me with that same spark and sassiness that never quite left.

Today, in this holy moment, in the wee hours of a fall day in Colorado, at the YMCA of the Rockies, she re-introduced herself, and I listened.

Call to action: Pick one thing that your 10 year old self loved to do and do it!