But on Thursday, I looked again. And from my window I noticed a grey, barren tree shaped like an exotic dancer with spindly limbs stretched and twisted in all directions, standing righteous against the grey sky. And her stance seemed to mouth to Winter, “Hallelujah, don’t look here for surrender.”
Punctuating her point, a squirrel scurried up her trunk and was nearly lost from view, a chameleon shape shifting into the grey scenery.
And I looked upward, to the top of this tangled mass of limbs and tree and saw tiny buds waiting their turn, waiting for spring, defiant in their posture but patient in repose.
I saw the grey sky, and the grey tree, grey squirrel housed in her arms, and was suddenly humbled by the resilient beauty that was all.
How could I go to work again thinking it was just another grey day? How could I withhold grace from my perspective?
The beauty of greyness had smoked out my cynicism. Busted.
And I realized this truth: Beauty abounds, life liberates and tortures us with paradox, and we forget to look up.
When we skew our view, sometimes we gain a magical perspective that washes away drudgery the way Windex makes clear the glass. Sometimes, I think the hardest part about being human is remembering to look up, to look through the grey and find what is hidden in plain sight.
I thought about this riding on the elevator that grey Thursday morning when I heard co-workers commiserating about the cold, grey day. And I said to myself what I wanted to say to them. “Look up!”
If you’re interested in thoughts on integrity, compassion and grace–if you’re looking for exploratory questions to unearth pieces of your soul, check out my book Tao Flashes. Or visit me at http://www.facebook.com/taoflashes or on twitter @taoflashes.