Friday 6:02 am, Los Angeles, California
No coffee in the hotel room. I had to go downstairs to the common area. I poured myself a cup and was about to return to my room when the outdoor terrace caught my attention. It was still dark, but the thought of sipping my first cup in the twilight of Santa Monica Boulevard* compelled. In the middle of the terrace was a small fountain, I sat a few feet from it. I had my phone, but didn't check my email; didn't check my news feed. Maybe it was that LA ambience where even the air can't resist you. I was in the soft light before dawn in the air, aware. No thoughts. Just present.
A hummingbird appeared at the fountain. Then another. There were five, then three, then four, then two hovering together. At one point they gathered together on the edge of the fountain. Never still, appearing and disappearing. I was nothing but aware. Goethe's** last words were said to have been, "More light." but with just a few more lumens the hummingbirds vanished. No doubt the little magicians didn't wish to reveal how they did their tricks.
The spell was broken, and I embraced the amazing energy and crackling creativity of that beautiful city. That's why I had gone there. Who knew I would be caught for a moment in "the still point of the turning world." "Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is."***
I'm not sure what I have to learn. I got a gift I couldn't have asked for or imagined.
Maybe I'll just be grateful.
Warmly,
Francis Sopper