Looking out the window all I see is a cloudy sky and swaying leaves. If I sit upright, I might be able to just catch the tops of the neighbouring houses. Just.
If I turn away from the window, I can see so much more. I can see the blanket covering my feet, warming my toes. I can see the dust forming in the corners where the walls meet the floor. I can see the faint smoke patterns arise from the candle on the mantle piece and I can notice how it dances and forms shadows upon the wall. I can hear the dog breathing as he sleeps and I can feel my body sink into the curves of the bed.
I can't see much on the outside of the window, but inside I see everything. The picture is so much clearer.
I feel that I, and maybe you too, look outside the window too often as we live our lives. We go by our days trying to figure out what is to come and what is beyond the window frame. The thing is, we will never know. We will never be able to see the whole scene.
What we do have is the now. The room we are in. If we turned away from the window for just a moment we can see that there is a whole room to be explored and loved. We have so much to work with and control and with these things we can practise contentment.
Looking out that window can be an anxious and daunting task. Not knowing what is out there, imagining the troubles that are to come, or even dreaming about the good things to be shared, can sometimes be unhelpful. I feel that if we focus less on what is to come and more on what is here and now, we can gracefully transition into our future. We can enjoy the room we are in and take steps to walk out the door and into the outside world rather than just merely looking at a fragment of it through a glass pane.
Take a look at the room around you. Whether it is the physical room, or the metaphorical room of your present life, what do you see?