Look up.

I decided as I headed out this morning that it was a Pandora morning.  The sky was overcast and it was cool, in the 50's.  Perfect.

In the parking lot around the side of Kroger, Ani DiFranco came on and I had to stop, turn up the volume, and dance for a minute.  "Everest."  It made me think of a friend I talked to last week-- and it reminded me of myself, and of searching. 

"So I take a few steps back
and put on a wider lense
and it changes your skin,
your sex, and what you're wearing
distance shows your silhouette
to be a lot like mine"

I've been looking at things through a wider lense this week.  I didn't want to, but I have been, and it does change things.  And our silhouettes are a lot alike, even though we can't usually see the similarities. 

Because the same friend had asked about the leaves in Arkansas, my eyes were open to them.  The light wasn't good, but I took some pictures anyway.  It felt good to stop when I wanted to stop and take my time.

I was standing by the water fountain near Loop Road looking into the park and the trees, wishing that there was any way that my phone could capture what I was seeing, the air tinted green by the leaves, sort of sultry with shade and color.  I knew it couldn't, and then something told me, "Look up."  So I did, and one tree changing color rose thinly above me, surrounded by green and with brightness peeking through at the top.  Look up. 

Truth, I'm thinking, comes in short bursts and, when complicated by life, is rarely simple or absolute.  Sort of like happiness.  When you see it, grab it.  When you feel it, contemplate it.  Write it down and look at it.  See how it feels when you swish it around in your heart. 

I heard another song that I loved with a sweet poignancy: Tristan Prettyman singing "All I Want is You."  I thought about how it feels to know that poignancy and how hard it is to show that to someone else.  You know it or you don't.