Thursday, May 28, 2015

The taking away of breath

And there it was, silent and sudden, at the edge of the clearing. When you say, "It took my breath away," what you mean is that you took in a breath and held it, not wishing to let the air escape from this magical moment.

He didn't feel an excited explosion of joy and happiness. It was just there, standing there matter of fact and how-are-you good-morning-to-you-too, as if it had always been there and intended to be there for as long as it pleased and go on its way in its time.

No, not an explosion. The joy and happiness from the deer's arrival rose slowly and certainly until it overflowed, as if it had always been there and he could draw from that well from now on, anytime he wanted.

He overflowed with a sense of gratitude — to whom was he grateful? He claimed not to believe in a supernatural being, and yet he needed to thank Some One. Thank the universe? The universe didn't care a flying flamingo about him. Why should he thank the universe?

But gratitude was the emotion he was feeling. He was glad to be alive and in his moment. And so he murmured, "Thank you," to no one in particular, and he could have sworn Some One overheard him and murmured, "You're very welcome, my son."

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