I was watching the little ones play from the window this morning. The snow drifts had piled to massive proportion, a veritable fortress of winter play.

I watched them slide, with boots and mittened hands — upon toboggan, with trees whizzing past. While faithful pets chased the ‘wake’ of fresh fallen snow.

At times, it seemed, even the sparrows — emerging just hours past a crippling storm — would set aside their hunger simply to join them in their joy.

It brought to mind a favorite passage, “the quality of your action depends upon the quality of your being.” That is to say, through joyful mind we experience the inherent joy of this life. We engage the limitlessness of our boundless spirit through this aspect of just simply being.

Look the tree weighted with snow. It stands upright, vigorously consumed by the prospect of being ‘tree’. It looks to no other, asks not for permission – rather, it exemplifies all that it is and could possibly be.

As I look to the children once again, I realize – the happiness they experience is rooted partially in aimlessness.

That is to say, they seldom make plans to meet with joy. They have no fixed plans, rather — they allow happiness to unfold within every moment.

Can you imagine a joy that is limited only by way of our awareness? We suffer through the pain of disconnected, until one day – like the proverbial light switch – our world becomes illuminated.

Until one day, when it becomes abundantly clear; happiness was always there, for those with courage enough to share its place.

I woke up today emptied by loss. I worried the sadness might overtake my capacity to show and share compassion. I thought of every hand I’ve held, and those that have yet to come. I thought of the lifted smiles in those shared moments of revealing.

As I stood looking out at the window, a little one with cheeks flushed red from the excitement of discovery, paused to ask;

“Will you come play? You can have my sled.”

My goodness, how could anyone resist? These charms of life begging our attendance.

Is the sadness still there? Oh yes, I’m sure — but the space I yield is that of compassion.

Poet Walt Whitman once wrote that “Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof.”

I believe we all have this inherent knowing, which fails the bonds of logic every time.

“From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.
I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me,” – Walt Whitman, “Song of the Open Road”