Shafts of light against mature bark, brown and warm. Red and yellow curved edges happily floating on a clear gentle stream. Soil dusty and tamped down from satisfied hikers.
It should be beautiful but for some it’s not. It is shafts of low light bringing another day to an end and all that has changed is the day. Red and yellow curved edges that will soon brown and freeze solid in place, another moment without result. Soil dusty as air out of hopeful breaths that life will be different and it isn’t. It’s the same. The desire but not the outcome.
The pandemic has touched everyone. It is oddly fascinating that everything has changed but it’s still the same. And I fear another year ending, another holiday season approaching, another day full of change without outcome.
May you be aware of the gift that is life.
May you use this opportunity wisely and be the best expression of love that you can be. Even when it’s hard. Even when you begin to age and your body begins to stiffen and the younger generation takes up more space. Even when you are less useful.
Still then, may you be peace and love.
When love is in reach but you hesitate because you still don’t believe in yourself and all the color of this year is at your feet, gone. Before you a path, adventure, yet you focus on the roots, and the rocks, and the soil.
Bring your awareness to the green, the leaves yet to turn, the experiences yet to color your life, the future. As the squirrel gathers crab apples from the tree, finding just the right one and nibbling to it’s core. Knowing that it’s harvest. Knowing that more yellow and brown leaves will fall and the trees will soon be barren in frigid wind and short light.
All that you want to say, to speak, to birth. Every expression of every conclusion you’ve come to now grows, and brings life ever changing as clusters of thoughts emanating from your lips, entangled and sewn as jewels on a string.
Sometimes our realizations come as a whole that we can see from any angle and all angles. Complete thoughts have to be dissected into manageable portions that we can communicate or we end up just jumbling our thoughts and our words. These moments are precious and important.
In meditation we find the string that holds the jewels.
Bud and Tina were close. They’d been that way since junior year in high school. Even though Tina went off to the west coast to pursue her acting career she kept in touch mostly by social media, but on occasion, usually in a semi drunken state, she’d call him just to say hi. Bud almost seemed to know she was going to call just as he knew that some day they’d be more than friends.
That day has not yet come, but after this weekend’s meet up in Meredith he was confident that she realized that they have a very deep connection. Tina admitted to him that she feels his warmth and loving touch right down to her roots. We’ll see!
Moss and saplings cover and intrude under a canopy of blue light. Uncomfortable frustrating experiences creating a space of knowing, a kind of wisdom. Wisdom based on fear, making you mindless and almost superstitious.
The ugly wisdom.
The kind that compels you to park in the same area, sit in the same area and walk the same trails because they work, they are familiar. The burl, the reaction, that brings you to respond with a quick no so that you don’t say yes.
The ugly wisdom
Soon comes a gentle breeze expelling last nights rain off your leaves. Soon comes light and with it change.
In the damp humid air fungus emerges from the forest floor, ascending, growing tags like shells. Each one a moment when you allowed yourself to accept limited love and to be less than who you really are because it was not enough or it was too much.
Sean just doesn’t understand why he never gets a second or a third date. He goes to the gym at least 5 times a week, dresses in complimentary colors, and remembers to listen intently. Sometimes he actually holds his breath when others are talking.
He read somewhere that in order to seem desirable he had to stand out which to him seems ridiculous because it’s so natural to blend in. Maybe he’ll work on his voice next.
When you choose to love for who they are. When the parts of them that are not pretty, but hardened and stubborn and want to reach up to the light or down into the earth, but still want growth, life. When full acceptance of their joyous passions and their tortured wounds are met with your mindful embrace.
Then and only then will you love unconditionaly.