The Direction of Intention

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The day started early. I took a walk to watch the sunrise and found myself captivated by the ducks diving for food in the Sound just at the end of my street. It was one of those rare moments when the water of the Sound is glassy and quiet. I stopped at the water’s edge because it was so quiet. No gulls, no crows, no ducks, no waves, no wind; I could hear my breath and my heartbeat. The water was steel grey and cold as polished iron. Suddenly, like popcorn, a dozen ducks bobbed to the surface. And, as if on a single breath, they disappeared again, diving for whatever breakfast snack was found beneath the water.

It was like watching a ballet. When they next appeared they came in shifts. 3 popped up, then 2 more, then 4 disappeared as 5 appeared. The sun decided to enter the dance: as the sky grew pink and hot orange the iron grey shimmered, purpled, and played chase with the ducks. I was dizzy with wonderment when the gulls sang their part and the crows strutted to and fro in comic approval.

Of course, I was the only one who knew this morning ritual was really a dance. But, after the final curtain as I walked away I wondered what eyes are sometimes looking at us in our morning rituals, thinking, “This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!”

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