It was an August Sunday in Bolinas. I slowly walked down the now familiar aisle directly behind the church; head down and fixated on my shoes as they crunched through the gravel. I stopped at plot 154. I stood there... Consumed by grief, by the seemingly overwhelming circumstances that were enveloping my life - in the two weeks that had preceded, I had lost my job; my car was totaled; I had cracked my pelvis; I had a looming court date; not to mention the war in Iraq; escalating gas prices; and now this... Bill, my friend, my "brother", was unbelievably gone.
I stood there alone, with tears in my eyes, a lump in my throat, a very heavy heart, and my myriad of worries. Unable to really focus on anything(!), I simply stood there angrily questioning... Why? How? What? I was there less than a minute, when my chaos was interrupted, parted by a gentle (but clear) voice whispering through me these five simple words... "It's about the little things".
Slightly bewildered by this encounter (and its meaning), I made a "b-line" for my awaiting rental car. As I walked past the small church, I became aware of how comforting the warm sunshine felt upon my face. Over the next few days I started grasping the beautiful gift(s) that I was given on that Summer day. The little things... A ray of sunshine, a smile, the sound of the ocean, holding hands, my morning shower, saying "I love you"... These limitless "little things" are what should be noticed, what should be treasured; these "little things" are what life is about.