Still. Still, I sigh in delight at the air that lingers, the images that return when I close my eyes. Each hour it is something different I remember; the sound of sheep bleating every time we returned to our accommodations in Sirince, Turkey. The three of four of them lived in a cozy spot near the "parking lot" and would stir when we walked by. The smell of their wool coats was pungent and warm; the sound of their greetings earthy and welcoming. So comforting and yet so odd.
That mix - safe comfort and jarring oddity - is part of why I love to travel. That mix makes me alert and aware. Sheep bleating in the night is not part of my normal routine - so it startles me enough to pay attention and look around; to take note. And then, when I see its good and warm and pungent, I am still alert, but free to keep looking. I see the sky, littered with stars and notice the soft shadows the bushes make on the cobblestone path. I evaluate the smell of sheep sweat and notice the undertones of crushed olive leaves. My toes denote the fine texture of the dust and my cheeks measure the cool of the air.
Its all precious and rare and beautiful.
Then I get home and I'm lazy. I don't notice as much. I don't treasure as easily. Its too much work, to be alert all day.
But some part of each day I want to be alert to the blessed gifts life gives. I want to spend energy and attention on being startled - because life is startling and beautiful - even in the places that I have labeled "common", and "home" and "familiar". Tucked into these places, as much as in the exotic places far from home, are beautiful, good, intricate, wild, surprising gifts.
I want to notice them, and hold onto the moments of awareness. So - alleluia for sheep sweat!