Mind Gifts

I am sit­ting in the lit­tle cafe across the street from the grade school I attended as a child. It is a quiet after­noon. There is a cup of hot Dr. Pep­per with lemon in front of me (a pop­u­lar drink in the late 1960’s). The weather is per­fect. I glance north and notice a blue haze. There is a severe cold front headed this way on the New Mex­ico desert plains. The first wind gusts will hit here in about twenty minutes.

Until that hap­pens, I am deep in thought. It is time to review my life a bit and pon­der where I am in my late fifties. I am glad I brought my jacket. The tem­per­a­ture in the next hour will plunge fifty or so degrees. In twelve hours there will be six inches of snow on the ground. For now it is a sunny Novem­ber day. This moment is perfect.

I sip along, notic­ing the blue north­ern approach­ing. By the time school is out across the street it will be get­ting colder and the kids will be run­ning for the buses. I think I will sit here a while and wait until they are all gone. There is noth­ing so haunt­ingly con­sol­ing as soli­tude and an empty school ground. It reminds me of child­hood, but it is bet­ter to be here now — long into adult­hood. When I fin­ish the hot Dr. Pep­per and step out­side the first blast of cold air will hit my cheeks. Therein begins the next aes­thetic moment.

The pre­vi­ous para­graphs never hap­pened — except in my imag­i­na­tion. I have often revis­ited that mind-built moment. I hon­estly do not know where it came from. I only know that my mind con­structed it one day when it thought I needed it. It has built dozens of oth­ers, but this one is one of my favorites. It com­bines a thou­sand lit­tle ele­ments together in a sin­gle scene — feel­ings and all. It is a gift of the reflec­tive mind.

May your mind con­struct such com­po­sure of thought and reflec­tion for you this day. The mind is a trea­sure chest when opened and allowed to express its magic.