We just moved to a new home. A really lovely little place, on a quiet street where we can actually park in front of our house. We are renting from a young family upstairs, they are really nice folks, which makes such a difference. Pretty lucky.
The entrance to our apartment is from the back yard and there is a path of stepping stones that leads to a narrow, gravel walk along the side of the house. All the stepping stones are very even, except for this one which leans earnestly to right. It is right at a bend where we start to gently turn left toward the gravel walkway. It's rainy where we live, and to be honest, I'm getting older. (Such a surprise.) So I'm always a bit tentative as I approach this particular step. I sometimes chafe and rattle in a mild form of discontent. That damn stepping stone. Why isn't it nice and flat like all the others?! Why of all things does it have to lean away from the curve?!
Slowly, RELUNCTANTLY, I've come to notice that as I approach this dark-starred stone, it actually quite quietly asks me to be mindful. To pay attention in the present moment to my body. Pretty cool.
I'm not hoping for more uneven stepping stones, or maybe I am. I do know that there are already so many out there, those little quietly wavy stepping stones that beckon me to return.