Balanced Mind with Julie Potiker

Winter Solstice - Guided Meditation
Last night, an owlin the blue darktossed an indeterminate numberof carefully shaped sounds intothe world, in which,a quarter of a mile away, I happenedto be standing.I couldn’t tellwhich one it was –the barred or the great-hornedship of the air –it was that distant. But, anyway,aren’t there momentsthat are better than knowing something,and sweeter? Snow was falling,so much like starsfilling the dark treesthat one could easily imagineits reason for being was nothing morethan prettiness. I supposeif this were someone else’s storythey would have insisted on knowingwhatever is knowable – would have hurriedover the fieldsto name it – the owl, I mean.But it’s mine, this poem of the night,and I just stood there, listening and holding outmy hands to the soft glitterfalling through the air. I love this world,but not for its answers.And I wish good luck to the owl,whatever its name –and I wish great welcome to the snow,whatever its severe and comfortlessand beautiful meaning.
-Snowy Night, by Mary Oliver