“This morning, with her, having coffee.”
–Johnny Cash, when asked for his description of paradise.
I get this on every level I have. I feel it in my bones and in the deepest part of my soul. It echoes off the walls of my heart. This is a nice thing to understand. Paradise lives in simple, quiet places, and maybe only here, and it feels like the truth.
On my walk by the sea yesterday, I passed a young family pushing a stroller as their older, little boy rode his push bike. He made the obligatory motorcycle sounds and swerved and went fast and almost rode off the curb. I passed him swiftly, as he was unpredictable. He looked up at me as I passed. He quickly caught up to me and said something. I didn’t hear him as I had my earbuds in. I stopped. He told me about his bike and how fast he could go. I looked him in the eyes and listened intently and told him I thought he might be the best rider I’d seen. He nodded, as if he believed so, too. He then asked about my “earrings”. I told him they played music. He looked skeptical. I took the earbud I’d removed to hear him and placed it next to his ear. His eyes went wide and he smiled. His parents smiled and I smiled, too. He looked at me with curiosity and wonder and I looked at him with loving gratitude. We both left happy for the exchange. He’d reminded me of important things.
“If you were to ask me how I found my way through the most difficult parts of my life, I would tell you this: ‘I pay attention to beauty.’ And, by this, I mean I have taught myself how to look for the details that make up the delicate bones of the world around me-the things that tiptoe quietly on gentle feet, and don’t announce their presence in a loud voice.”
– Liezel Graham
I get this, too. I’ve gotten this for a long time. I’ve also forgotten it sometimes. I’ve let the loud voices of doubt and fear out-scream the truth of beautiful things. I’ve complicated simple things and lost some of them. But, much remains, too.
The capacity to understand paradise, and know where it lives, and recognize it when it’s near, is something I get. Paradise lives and breathes in soft moments of connection and love with friends and lovers and ourselves, and sometimes a little boy on a push bike by the sea. It “tiptoes quietly” in our peripheral vision, but it’s there. I like knowing this.
Photo credit: Robin Malmanger
Dave Markwell is a life-long Des Moines liver and lover. Former owner of Waterland CrossFit and the Waterland Arcade, Dave uses his unique story-telling voice to help small businesses tell a better story, and his love for people to help folks live bigger and better lives. For more info, check out his website: wordsbydave.net
