I just finished my daily wog (half walk, half jog) through the park.  On the homestretch, as I jogged past a garden springing fresh with colorful blossoms, a little girl, maybe three-years-old, stepped directly in front of me.  She was drawn to the beauty of the flowers, totally oblivious to this giant—nearly ten times her body weight—barreling down on her from the other direction.

Fortunately, my motor skills are slightly more developed than hers, and I was able to correct my path, and all remained well with her world, a place of mesmerization with beauty, and of isolation from a preoccupation with danger.

As I now return to my desk, to my research and work, I realize that I have a similar opportunity, a similar choice.  I can either dwell in a place of worry about the dangers I see barreling towards me in the form of unfunded budget needs, looming deadlines, and need.  Or I can focus on the opportunities that await me on the other side of an inquiry, inside an unopened email, an unheard voicemail, and an unwritten request.

On my way home, I jogged through the archway pictured above, and its combination of light and shadow equally compelled me further.  Home.

This life is a gift in which lumbering giants and blooming gardens coexist with light and shadow. Indeed they surround us on all sides.

But today, once again, the wisdom of a child guides my vision and my sense of enchantment.

As I take another step.