Lyra and Willow—our two new pug puppies—embody that joy. Lyra, fawn-colored, bright and inquisitive, is the light in the sky. Willow, black and earth-bound, is mellow and grounded. They are heaven and earth in miniature, yin and yang at play. They remind me that harmony is not uniformity but the dance of opposites—sky and soil, play and rest, movement and stillness.
As I sat with a cup of PG Tips, I wondered what philosophy or spirituality there might be in such an ordinary scene. No dogma. No system. Just being. I opened my Field Notes book, as I often do, and recorded the feeling of quiet happiness. Then, following my morning rhythm, I turned to my eclectic spiritual practice: the Christian Daily Office, which roots me in a rhythm of prayer and gratitude; the runes, which connect me to the cycles of nature and the ancient wisdom of the North; and the Yijing, the Book of Changes, which offers guidance in the art of living.
The rune this morning was Jera—the year’s harvest. It speaks of fruition, of reaping what has been sown, of joy and celebration, yet also of preparing for winter. I felt its truth. Despite the hardships of the year, this is a season of plenty in my life—of love, of friendship, of work well done. And, as Jera reminded me, the seasons turn. Harvest leads to rest.
The Yijing offered Hexagram 28, Greatness in Excess, changing to 62, Exceeding Smallness. The first, an image of a ridgepole under strain with too much weight. It transforms into the counsel of reining in ambition and keeping a low profile. The text observes “the little bird flies close to the ground.” The Sage seems to whisper “when fullness comes, bow low. When life feels abundant, simplify. Do not reach higher, root deeper.”
I think that is what this season asks of me: to live the spirituality of the ordinary; to find G*d not in achievement but in the mundane acts of living—the wag of a pug’s tail, the warmth of morning tea, the mist rising from the lake. It is to let philosophy be embodied in everyday life rather than confined to abstract thinking.
So, I will try to be content without striving and find joy in simple things. For now, I will fly low, like the little bird close to the earth, attentive to what is near, and grateful for what I find.
+Ab. Andy