This morning – a clear, cool, and lovely one – we took a bracing 5-mile walk along River Road, and I started noticing things that seemed hidden. Here’s an example – this stone beside the road, secluded and sheltered inside a bushy home of leaves.

I wouldn’t have noticed it if Delycia hadn’t pointed it out. I had told her I was on the lookout for hidden things, mostly because so many miracles remain hidden to me as I mindlessly rush my way through my 78th year. And here was this stone among leaves this morning – nothing special, we might say – and yet it seemed as miraculous as every single thing in this heart-stopping universe. I truly felt like dropping to my knees and giving thanks for this wonder in a world of them.

Here’s a poem I wrote several years ago about hidden-ness:

(Philip M., 89, Blessings, CT)
He’s aware 
of their hidden presence in his life, 
these silent strengths that suddenly arise
and you are startled 
and start to understand
the rugged, multicolored quality of life. 
He has seen some struggles, 
but once the truth
snakes up through his thoughts, 
the truth that strength is always nestled 
in a cozy circle
inside even the worst problem, 
then he sees again
that any problem 
is absolutely soaked with wisdom,
which makes the problem 
both whimsical and serious.
He knows that wherever a problem has been
is now a celebrated spot, 
and so he says
he does a lot of celebrating.

And here are some serious walkers …

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