Magic happens when you keep moving.
Ambling along in the park recently, in passing, I found myself earwigging on a huddling of dog lovers, taut leads radially straining in conflict with their confab, yapping and rampant canines, sinews alert.
Lost in thought, I slewed a few yards from their path in order to safeguard my shins.
We have to keep moving. Keep in our flow. Keep writing, in my case. I felt I had been writing well that morning. Spring was both in the air, and in my step. My arms swung attuned to the rhythm of life, swung high and sweet.
It all happened in an instant. The indistinct swish of a yellow/green something. The dull thud of an impact, and the wet slap of connection, all in quick succession.
Something felt different. I glanced down.
A tennis ball, slobbered upon, otherwise perfect in its form, nestled gorgeously, perfectly, in my little palm.
The swish had been the ball, the thud contact with a low hanging branch some yards ahead, the slap my unconscious acceptance of a moist gift from benefactors unknown.
From astern, hearty laughs met my ears, and I felt connected.
We keep in our flow, and the ball gets caught, however unlikely.
We have a habit of noticing every time the ball falls short, or out of reach. We choose not to see, or to appreciate, the beauty of the unlikeliest of fortunes.
I can write crosswords, and am in my flow doing so. Some can paint, others re great talkers, or thinkers. Some are great in the kitchen, others at caring for others. We al have our flow. And when we are looking for it, we are probably not in it!
When we are in our flow, great things happen. The ball sticks in our hand.
Have a great week.