Now I’ve slowed down I often find myself noticing little signs in nature everywhere. Like they’re talking to me. Squeezing out a simple smile or melting me in awe. Those little moments that remind me how to be. Always reassuring me we’re all far from separate and everything is going to be okay.
Earlier, I had a desperate urge to make my way to the sea and came across what has to be my favourite sign of today. I happened upon a random little snail somehow poised on a fence overlooking an awe inspiring North Devon bay. Twas like a weirdly wise little mollusc telling me it was good to slow down. To stop to get better. To join in and have a go at that glorious, tiny snail’s pace.
But, the more I looked at that spiralling wonder of a snail, the more I couldn’t help myself imagine it was actually stood on a diving board, overhanging the waves below. Like that little snail was merely pausing to muster up the courage, about to do something spectacular. Like it was getting ready to run and jump and twirl in sunlit snail somersaults down towards that roaring sea.
But it didn’t.
I suspect snails probably don’t do such things anyway, do they? Then again, who even knew that snails could hang out chilling on clifftops, withstanding wind to bask in the raging glory of an almighty sea ?