I experienced the most beautiful day yesterday. All things seemed to drop into place and time slowed down and the utter enmeshment and weave of the universe stoop out in a way I treasure.
Yet my experience in Cicada hunting was also profoundly bittersweet. They arrive after a long maturing process, live life in total engagement and then are gone. They leave the husks of themselves as a reminder that the past is real and a proof they existed, even for a short time.
The bittersweet is we do much the same thing. I know the time difference is vast. We normally live much longer. Yet we share the sadness of the finality of life.
Cicadas were flying around from bush to tree, making fascinating science fiction sounds and images, totally engaged, living life every second in celebration. Not “thinking about” but simply being. Pure blue sky, the intense green and muted browns and greens of grass and trees, and it came to me that the beauty rises not in absence of the bitter, but as part of it.
Take care of you in these moments,