At the end of a meditation session this morning in our backyard, I open my eyes and see a beautiful array of water droplets on some crab grass.

These dewdrops invite me to shift perspective. On another occasion, I might be pulling up that same crab grass, treating it as an unwanted weed. Yet, there it is taking my breath away with its unexpected beauty.

Meditating outside invites lots of these kinds of moments. Young osprey circle overhead crying out for attention. A pair of mockingbirds come and go in the nearby tree, eating berries. A flicker shows up on the play structure calling repeatedly. A fly lands on my dark pants such that I can see the pads at the end of each leg. Fluffy clouds float by on an impossibly blue sky.

I notice all sorts of particular qualities that I often miss. When I pay attention to the qualities of each thing around me -- or in the case of the crab grass, the beauty in an often-rejected place -- I also find a greater capacity for accepting my own particular qualities and circumstances. I accept, and even rejoice in, who I am at this moment, knowing that I am a part of this much larger web of life.