raindust and the simples

Sometimes, we get so busy that we lose sight of what.s important. What's important? The simple things, like love, laughter, or a friendly face. The truest graces are those that catch us off guard and put a smile on our face. They make us say, .wow, life really isn.t too bad.. I call them the simples.

I encountered one of these simples some time ago while cleaning my porch. It had been more than a while since I had swept this particular piece of concrete, and so it was quite dirty. Now, don.t count me as a dirty person, I.m just rather busy ya know? And don.t try to tell me that you.ve never been there. Everyone has been caught up in the rushiness of life to the point we seem to barely get by. We rush through mundane dramas, performing at a hurried pace because we.ve got better things to do. Yeah, I know you've been there.

Anyways, back to sweeping the porch. There I was sweeping this dirt when I noticed that it wasn.t regular dirt. It was black dirt and there is no black dirt where I live! I mean, we have red dirt, clayish dirt, brown muddy dirt, but no black dirt. The only black dirt you can find on my island is artificial fertilizer or the stuff you get from a potted plant. And I didn.t have either one of these on my porch.

Being the sharp guy that I am, I swept the dirt into two different piles. Into the trash went the regular dirt and debris. The other pile went into a small trash bag for further examination. It really wasn.t regular dirt. It had some kind of feeling, moist, full of life; I mean, you could tell this dirt was good soil. I smelt it, it was fresh . almost like topsoil from back home and it made me miss pine trees and mountains.

About this time I noticed my neighbor. He is an old Filipino man, who fancies himself a farmer. He has no farm though. But he does tell stories about it, and I like to listen. He talks about his Ox, and plowing the fields in the PI before the war. He talks about how he can grow so much with so little, working with his two calloused hands.

"Whatch-ya got pare'ko?" he asks, seeing the bag of soil.

"Dirt, I think. But I don't know where it came from." I say as he comes over to inspect my treasure.

"Ei, that's no dirt, that's raindust." He looks at me seriously and then walks away, probably distracted by more serious things.

"Rain dust huh?" I ask doubting the existing of such a thing. But it did smell fresh, and it did remind me of the morning rain. Maybe the old man was right? If he was then I couldn't possibly throw this away. I put the bag of raindust in the corner to think about later.

Sometime later, but still awhile before today I happened to walk by that raindust on my porch and a thought occurred to me. How lucky was I to have raindust? How lucky was I to get a glimpse of this magical freshness that fell from heaven? I mean it was by freak accident that I actually noticed the difference in this special soil. But what a great and simple thing it was!

And so I ask you, when was the last time you noticed a simple? When was the last time you took a "wow" from life? Take my advice and notice, because the simples are worth looking out for.