Limitlessness

I watched a spider this morning, gently weaving a web between the kitchen ceiling and a chair.  It struck me, as it came and went, that it made no defimition of what and where it was, instead it saw the chair not as a piece of polished wood but as a perfect vehicle for living.

 It caused me to reflect on how narrowly sometimes we define what is in our lives, and how often we perceive our environment only as it affects us directly.  If we stand back and forget our pre-conceptions, our understanding and sense of it changes dramatically.  The old kitchen chair, looked at objectively, is a piece of nature and the colour of nature, hard to the touch and a little rough in places, warm in places, cold in others, with a faint but distinctive aroma.  In itself it reflects history - the tree that was its source is there still, the marks of the tools of the person who made it also, the memory of the many people who have used it, and of what that chair has witnessed, been a part of.

In the last few moments I have looked at every object immediately around me, from my computer screen to my desk, to a clock and to a crystal - even business cards pinned to the wall.  Each one has its story, has its memory, and a meaning far beyond the immediate and obvious.  Each one is humbling.