say hello
What might you find beyond the surface?
Last week I was walking in a forest marveling with the blooms and birdsongs when a wisp of memory landed in my mind of a day many years ago when I was walking in another forest with a new friend who at some point during our hike proclaimed with urgency, “You need to get out more!” Befuddled by this, I asked, “What do you mean?” and he said, “You’re amazed by every little thing!”
My amazement was slowing him down. My awe was annoying. My talk with the trees and creatures was that of a child, something he thought I surely should have outgrown if I’d had ample experiences out in the world.
I didn’t take a forest walk with him again. Although I remember laughing and dismissing his comment as his own ignorance, as I reflect on the twenty or so years between that moment and now, I can see how it impacted me. How it was one of many moments in my early adulthood that taught me where I could (and couldn’t) be the whole of myself—playful and free and connected with the more-than-human realms.
It’s not an accident that this wisp of memory circled back to me now. When I saw it, I giggled and smiled at this younger version of me who had not yet found her true voice and who could not yet see the power of the undimmed child within her.
I am grateful for my learning and growing between then and now.
I am grateful for the many times adults rolled their eyes and called me naïve, impractical, or too fanciful to fit. I am grateful for the years I spent in classrooms with 5-year-olds, believing it was the only place I could be myself. I am grateful for the edges and solitudes I’ve inhabited that have deepened my listening and nourished my connection to myself as child.
I am grateful for the child I am—the imprint of our soul mapped within my skin, channeled through my waters, remembered by my bones, rooted in my breath.
I no longer keep her tucked away only to come out to play when I’m alone or with children. I have learned to live the whole of my days as my soul, and I am free.
I am free to speak about the more of this moment, the more of any moment, the more of every little thing. Children are robust with this bounty. They know how to see it and jump into it and exclaim its fullness with roars and laughs and tears. They embody this place of immensity because it’s inside them and they haven’t (yet) tucked it away.
This place of aliveness is inside you, too. Each of us has access to the magic beyond the surface of things, beyond the frames we’ve narrowed and glossed our “grown-up” lives within, beyond the tight stories we tell about what is “real.”
Splash in a puddle, screech with a bird, laugh so your belly bounces, and remember… it’s all real.
And it’s at our fingertips—drips of potential humming within each moment of our days.
It’s not ridiculous to talk with squirrels. It’s dismissive to walk by without saying hello.
It’s not fanciful to ask angels, fairies, and stars to share their stories. It’s arrogant to think they have nothing to tell.
It’s not impractical to slow down, sit with a tree, and feel the immensity of love in a moment. It’s short-sighted to think we can create a more loving world without attuning to our hearts.
We are stardust. We are the consciousness of water. We are ancient caverns of hum. You and me and them and us. Together, we are mycelial awe.
Together, we breathe as what we are becoming. We are becoming a more beautiful world. Look beyond the surface and you will see it.
Stretch into its immensity and feel the bubbling, the friction, the heat. Feel the sensation of falling into the aliveness of who you are—the essence of the child you came into this world to be.
If it feels too big or far away or daunting, remember:
It’s always only simple. It’s always only small. And it’s always practice.
The practice is inward and can’t be outsourced.
Ask yourself: What parts of me have I tucked away? What qualities of my soul have dimmed? Where have I dulled my voice and expressions?
Take a long, full breath and say hello.
There are portals inside hello—fields of dandelion and spiderwebs of sky.
May we find small ways to say hello to ourselves, each other, and the aliveness all around us.
May we say hello to the more of every little thing, as we…
ooze with questions,
awe with a feather,
skip and roll and twirl,
stomp and roar and growl,
run like the wind,
laugh when we fall,
give and receive with open arms,
talk with ants and goats and birds,
cry easily and often,
believe in goodness,
sing in praise,
look silly,
speak our truth,
trust in dreams,
drift with clouds,
and savor every single drop.
*
So it is. Melissa
I get tingles remembering the delight and connection I experienced when I said hello to this friend!
