Reflecting on Everyday Things Part 1
April 7, 2026
Reflecting on Everyday Things Part 1
Welcome to this series about “Reflecting on Everyday Things.”
So many of our most enlightened times come in everyday experiences.
Tonight, the moon hung in the sky as a delicate curve. There it was, a happy sliver of silver, the thinnest, brightest, crescent moon I can remember seeing. At dusk when my walk began, the sky was a clear, deep blue, still and moonless.
But as I returned home from my neighborhood walk and stepped into my yard, something within me whispered, “Look over your shoulder.” I turned and there it was. A luminous silver smile suspended high in the darkening sky. I stopped walking. I did nothing but stand there and receive the unexpected blessing. “What does this mean?” I wondered.
Then I understood. The voice that prompted me was not mysterious or external. It was my still, small voice … the quiet inner-self that had been stirred during the walk. On my walk, a deep part of me reconnected to nature and gifted me with the urge to look over my shoulder. The urge did not come from calculation but from the voice in my depths.
Earlier that afternoon, I had almost decided not to take a walk but to stay inside. “The air is warmer now, but it may be too cool by dusk” I told myself. “Better not plan on taking a walk today.” But another impulse rose… it was gentle yet insistent … I needed to be outdoors. I yearned to be in the open air, to feel the grass under my feet and to be with the trees.
This long winter has kept us enclosed, and little by little I have drifted away from something essential… nature. I did not notice the loss while it was happening. Disconnection rarely announces itself. It simply becomes normal… too normal.
Yet today the unseasonably warm air reached into my depths and drew me outside, back toward my own essence. The walk did more than move my body; it returned me to the living world of sky, air, light, and the never-abandoning companionship of trees. In the winter, I had lost a closeness to these parts of myself.
The inner work of reconnecting with the lost parts of us is the journey into wholeness. For whatever reason, we disavow, distance, or forget something vital to our nature. And we trick ourselves into believing we are fine without it. We do not even realize we are without it. But we are, only to our detriment, to our fragmentation, and to our scattered silos. So, we must journey back home.
What other parts of me have I forgotten in this long winter—in the many long winters, springs, autumns, and summers of life? It is time to listen to the still small voice who wants to gather me up, swaddle me, re-member me, to feel as whole as can be….
It was just an everyday walk at dusk, but tonight the moon tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Remember me?” And its smile reconnected me to what had been forgotten during the long cold winter.
Spiritual practice: Take a walk outside and notice what reaches into your depths. Why did you not notice this before?
Self-inquiry: Can you live without taking the journey into wholeness?
Prayer:
Dear God, Please re-member in me, all that is lost, and all that must be regained. Amen
