The Inner Attitude

There are many ways to define ‘Life’.  It depends a lot upon the environment in which you were born, lived, and all the influences along the way.  So, I would not ‘expect’ anyone to have the same view of the very mysterious and wonderful thing we call ‘life’.

The tendency is to define it within the context of ourselves, the human creature.  There’s nothing wrong or amiss about that.  However, put yourself into my eyeballs, for a moment.

Perhaps all living things are narcissistic….totally focused upon themselves…..unaware and unconcerned about any other form of life around and within them.  It is unavoidable to a degree.  Yet, how more wonderful it is to take time to look into the details of life around us.

WE, the human creature, are gifted with the ability to do just that.  Maybe a frog is interested in the beauty and design and magic of a lily-pad.  I don’t know, as we have never had the opportunity to discuss it.  But, as I sit beside a frog in the evening, and watch this little fellow, I have a feeling it does….at least within its own capacity to do so.

If I could fly with my body, like a bird in the daylight, perhaps I could see and sense the awe it feels as it looks upon this beautiful (and often treacherous) world below it.

Every living thing has its point of view as it lives its place in the complexity of ‘Life’.  And, each ‘Life’, as it comes into existence, is filled with Expectations.  This is what drives each creature onward through each day of its existence.  You and I are no different, no exception.

It is a refreshing and expanding thing to get outside ourselves, at least for a moment, each day.  Look closer, look around, be ‘outside our little selves and attune to those living things around us. Why not have a little empathy for other humans, for other creatures of ‘Life’.  They, too, have arrived with their own manner of ‘Expectations’.

The following poem was written in 1969.  Hope you find a little urge to look closer at all the ‘Expectations’ living around you.


I gathered the curled virgin locks

Of the children and the first

Springtime petals of roses.

I took a cup and caught

The first tear of a lamb;

Then the first nectarous drop of milk

From a young woman’s breast.

I climbed a rock-grained peak

And caught a dewdrop

In the first rays of morning.

I found a robin feather

Fallen from its’ first flight

And gathered a grain of soil

Where a fawn took its’ first step.

I sat my mix upon a fire

Kindled by spring saplings

And called it……..


Clay Howard

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