A Sense of Awe

 I took a walk by the river today. It was pretty cold, the type of weather I normally avoid. I have a couple of health issues that don't really like the cold, so I usually just watch the winter outdoors from inside, under an electric blanket.

I've let worry make my decisions for quite some time. Bah. That hasn't made me any happier, or healthier.

Today, I let that drop. The sun was so beautiful and inviting that I bundled up and braved the cold. I knew that my back would hurt and my bladder would betray me. I chose not to care. January is usually a long, cloudy month. How could I pass up the beauty that was mere steps away?

I live in a condo along the Detroit River. In the winter, I see the ice floes that come from somewhere further north. From the balcony, they look cool. My walk today took me up close to the river and cool is not a strong enough word. Amazing. Awesome. Those kind of work. Why had I never bothered to walk out there and see them before?

Standing on the walkway along the river, I experienced the strangest sensation. Without moving, I watched the ice floes and I felt like I was on a boat that was moving through the ice. It was a little disorienting, so I started walking. I needed to feel like I was on solid ground. 

I walked, felt the sun on my face, and froze my fingers trying to take a few pictures. Eventually, I returned to the area where I had felt like I was moving. That feeling returned again, but this time I embraced it. I'm sure that there is some scientific reason for that sensation - I don't know it.

I was left with a sense of awe. Experiencing awe is good for us and I know that my mood was vastly improved after my walk. I was also left with the realization that even when we're trying not to change, we can't avoid change. I stood perfectly still and the ice continued to flow past me. The sun was shining on the ice, I'm sure melting parts of it that would then refreeze in an altered form.

Logically and intellectually, I know that change is inevitable and all around us. Today was a reminder, however, that hit me in my soul, not my brain. It was a truly beautiful reminder that I think will move me a little more often from under the blanket back to the outdoors.