A wise old shaman said to me one time:
"There's a surprise in every day, you just have to look for it."
I concur. But sometimes life itself gets in the way of spotting them when I'm cranky, irritable or have too much on my plate.
The longer I live the more I look for them though. This year I deliberately cast aside the distractions of my day and I just get out in the air and find new pathways, new byways, new trails. And surprises.
Today Ansa and I walked on an old road, long abandoned. If you look carefully, said a very old resident, you'll find the faintest trace of wagon wheels for this was a coach run back in the day. I didn't see the trace of wagon wheels but I did see what I thought were the faint imprint of long dead horse hooves. It was only afterwards I thought: moose prints, of course. It's a haunted old road alright. Daughter had explored it last year and had the eerie sensation of being watched and hurried on out. High trees on each side, that wonderful indescribable smell of forest, and creaking old tree trunks chattering along beside me into the almost tangible silence. I must bring the camera there to try and capture the other- worldliness of it.
Then I went to my mailbox and inside was a large package from a beloved Toronto friend. I literally gasped when I saw what was inside. I had told her recently of my upcoming debut as a seanchai and she had thought to send me a debut outfit. I was staggered both at its beauty and its me-ness. She sure knows me and my style. A black top and skirt with multi-coloured lace ribbons dancing all over it, even from the hem and sleeves. A French designer label. Something I could never, ever afford or even venture into the shops that would carry such luxury.
And for the first time in years I thought: you know what would look good with this? Sparkling high heels. Maybe pink, maybe red. High heels. Sheer stockings. You need to honour these gorgeous clothes.
And there will be pictures. Promise.
I just love surprises but my favourite of all is when I surprise myself.