Will you come too?

New Year's morning here in Arlington was misty and grey. Fresh snow had fallen. It was still. No traffic, no plows, no people.

A long walk with Lily Lu along the Mystic River kind of morning. At the river, I wasn't surprised to see a pair of swans on the black rippling water; they are regulars here. On this morning, though, four more swans glided out of the mist to join them. Then a single swan floated into view. Seven swans a' swimming!

I looked up and saw a bald eagle, its white head gleaming against the sky's greyness; its broad wings cutting through the air. As I kept the eagle in sight, a great blue heron flew across another corner of the sky. My heart ached with such wondrous abundance.

How could I not honor such auspicious signs for my new year? On my walk home, I resolved to give myself a two-day retreat before I turned 58 later in the month. I wanted untrammeled time to think about the coming year and chart the next steps on my own quest.

It would be a time to be still; my heart open to inspiration. I'd unplug myself from phone, computer, people. I'd read, think and delve deeper into what Joan Anderson calls my "authentic self."

Just before my retreat, I interviewed this month's Quest Maker, Kathleen Bohn. Her perspective about retiring early shifted when she thought of it not as retiring from her job, but as what she wanted to retire to instead. It led her to renew her passion for the clarinet. It led her to broaden the things that she loves in her life. Talking to Kathleen helped me think of my retreat as a time to explore how I can do the same.

As I wrote this, my favorite Robert Frost poem, "The Pasture" bubbled up:

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long. You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long. You come too.

I invite you to your soul's spring, to stop and take some time for contemplation. It needn't be long. Will you come too? In this month's Journal Sparker, I share the books I tucked in my questing portmanteau to keep me company on my retreat.

PS. Kathleen especially loves wildflowers, alive and growing. She sent me a photo taken at her ranch, Loma Brisa II, showing an amazing display of Texas Bluebonnets. As she noted, "it doesn't get much better than this!"

Photo credit: Sherry Woods