In the pool on the first sunny Saturday we’ve had since forever, I continued the mindful mental state in which I found myself that morning. It was blessedly and unusually quiet with no neighbors, so I made the most of it and kept the music off as well. Birdsong was the only music I needed, and even the distant rumble of a lawnmower was more summer comfort than annoyance. I floated into the deep end and saw the hummingbird from earlier in the morning return. I could watch it from the water, where it must have sensed my inability to instantly embody a threat, as it allowed me to move closer.
I got a better look at its sleek design, and at one point it flew directly at my head, hovering in mid-air mere inches from my face before darting back to the collection of nectar at hand. It felt almost other-worldly in a magnificently spiritual way, like some spirit had come to say a friendly hello from an alternate universe. Watching it flit from bloom to bloom was a giddy reminder that summer was still with us, and there were still days that might be filled with sun and fun and hummingbird excitement.
Did the hummingbird arrive as a result of my mindful meditation, or did my meditation allow for the sort of comfort and ease that simply stirred my awareness? On this day, it all felt right, and all of it felt possible.
