Wednesday, October 21, 2009


This morning I stepped out into the cold crisp air, as the leaves of the cottonwood tree above me, literally rained its leaves down upon my head. It bespoke the time of year, a time of rest, a gentle unfolding, a letting go of growth, and an acceptance of the long sleep that approaches. Though part of me mourns the passing of expansion and growth, another part of me rejoices and welcomes the approach of winter’s long slumber.
I have been taking delight in the Canadian Geese that have been filling the skies, and today I saw a mass of blackbirds pass overhead that was so large it pulsed in several waves, causing my breath to catch in my throat.
I embrace the here and now, though part of me is given to complaint and to rejection of what is, though I know it is fruitless - a futile waste of good energy. But struggle I must, frail and human as I am.
But mostly, I am wiser than that, and I embrace everything that now is, giving myself over to the mystery with relative abandon.
I am appreciative of all the time I have spent in my ‘sit-spot’, as my friend Mira calls it, coming back day after day, watching the same plants and animals fold and unfold and expand and recede, so that slowly I have begun to recognize them, regardless of season, little by little learning their names, but more importantly, their essences, for this has been more of a spiritual pursuit than academic. This has been a discipline that has affected me on many levels, and has helped me to grow in ways more numerous than I might list. But one way for sure, is that I am able to be in the moment; to appreciate the healing energy in the sun, the wind, the energy that pulses from every living thing, and to recognize my connection to it; and further, to be able to do that with a sense of humility: a recognition that I am merely a piece in a great puzzle; a cell in an enormous organism, and to come to the awareness that, to reject one aspect, is to reject the whole, and that, I could never dream of doing, anymore than I could reject my own hand or my heart. So, come winter! Bring your freezing temperatures, your frozen pipes, your blocked roads and hampered movement, but I know you will also bring crystalline trees, bathed in frozen vapor, the hush that a fresh blanket of snow brings to the valley, and a red cardinal sitting in a honeysuckle bush, eating bright, red, frozen, berries.

1 comment:

  1. YES! Each season brings its own joys, as well as its own discomforts. What is it in us, I wonder, that so resists change and wishes the moment to stay? Your final image, of winter beauty along the creek, was breathtaking.