A while ago, a friend and I were talking about how rare it is that we look up. You know, look up above the horizon, over your head, at the sky. I thought about that this morning as I was walking the dogs. It was a perfect, almost summer morning, coolish but warm too. I heard the cry of baby crow who's been in the neighborhood lately, and I looked up. I saw the crow, and then the sky. Pale blue, almost perfectly clear, full of possibility. And then I remembered the conversation about looking up and I vowed I was going to do more of it.
Looking up is also a good metaphor to live by too. I'm not always the best at doing it, but I do know that when I am able to do it, I feel a whole lot better. Looking up, counting my blessings, remembering that I have more than enough, always makes me feel good. Pollyanna I am not but I do know, that in the end, it's so much better than the alternative.
And here's a second crow for good luck by David Kroll, and to keep Kalliope and the Snow Queen happy.