There are things you can only get to see by becoming very still. Like the way the woodpecker who’s eating seeds from the feeder outside my window shines bright red as he flicks his head into and out of the sunlight. Or the way the earth moves in seasons that are never finished but are somehow enough in that time. Or the way that loss reveals the most precious parts of everything.
Stories, too. The best ones continue to teach the longer I stay with them, the longer I sit still as they unfold within me.