Friday, November 29, 2013
One can be alone, but not lonely...and there I stood immersed in...immersed in awe. And as I stood there, I stood in awe. In awe of what was in front of me...The bigness and space, the beauty and timelessness, the starkness which was brilliant. But most of all I just stood...in awe. In awe of the loudness of its silence. The grandeur and the peace of this place was almost overwhelming. It seemed so removed from the chaotic-ness that we have come to know in our daily lives as "normal". It was refreshing and I felt the lifting and emergence of "something" in the inner most of myself. It was, in a word, inspiring.
This canyon, Water Canyon, is in the heart of New Mexico. Anywhere that holds a treasure such as this has to be the heart, or a heart...of something. From the main road we looked up and into the distance at that mountain that cradled the canyon. It looked un-reachable--a destination that is always seen in the distance, but no matter how long you traveled, it remained just that--in the distance. We plugged on, traveling on faith and eventually the threshold was crossed and there we stood in the midst of...the midst of...God. It had to be... The loud silence was surely his voice. And in the breeze of that silence was the eerily, melancholy, beautiful and peaceful song of a Hermit thrush. All of this in perfect harmony with each other as are all thrush songs. Its only reply was its own echo. And somehow I think this thrush was okay with this. A trait to be admired. An angel...perhaps...or--the soul of the canyon. The Red-faced warbler that appeared in front of us--sat face to face with us studying us as we admired him. This, this was surely the heart of the canyon. He appeared and disappeared--as a dream.
As we wandered, mesmerized, deeper into the canyon we listened, watched, and deeply breathed in this aura surrounding us. This elevation stimulates and heightens our senses to a sense where they should always be! Still rising in elevation we came to a memorial marked "Adrians Adiose". A simple cross adorned with memories. It is obvious that Adrian was well thought of- I wondered if she knew this and hoped that she did. I think it is also obvious that Adrian adored this place. We do not know the circumstances of Adrians "adiose", but the fact that she "perhaps" "chose" it to be here should speak for the reverence of this place. I didn't know Adrian, but I now feel a kinship with her through the serenity of this place. Perhaps that Hermit thrush comforted her in that time of need and at the time "silenced the silence" for her. Not this silence, but that silence...I would also like to think that she heard God speaking to her through that silence-not this silence.
There IS a reverence in this place for us. Surrender to the silence and listen. I wondered if we continued further & further into the canyon would the peace get greater? Is this just a taste? Is this a path? What does Adrian now know? I like to think that she is now singing as beautifully as this Hermit thrush and in harmony and looking as beautiful as that Red-faced warbler.
She is now included into the heart and soul of this place. May we always seek and find these canyons in our lives.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Dusk...that spiritual God-gifted time of day when its no longer day--and not yet night. Its that time of transition not so different from the transitions that some of us "grow" through. A season of our life...I am not a winter person, never have been...but dusk is where winter and I came "to terms".
Cold, bitter, and blustery days winter does deal us...but under this harshness dusk is the soft side-the heart-of winter. Looking into the winter western sky we see it is often effused by that calming saffron glow. No other season soothes us with a dusk like this! It comes to us at a perfect time of day to warm our hearts and to help us reflect. Dusk is like the big, soft comforter we wrap ourselves in and wrap around our souls. It has healing properties of immense proportions that we can never grasp--the ultimate prescription from up above! It heals our hearts...there are "startling" dusks and some not so startling, but a dusk there is regardless, every day!
Dusk is when the "tide changes" for us land-locked and soul-locked dwellers. And this tide change is followed with silhouettes. On the horizon they begin--silhouettes of trees who have no choice but to be; silhouettes of deer and late going-to-roost hawks and herons, appearing to flee the dusk. And flocks of birds going to meet the dusk amongst the silhouettes of trees that will not depart, but wait for them. Its a comfort thing, I am sure. And then there are the silhouettes of owls because this is their given way. I often feel like a silhouette as well...They are just merely an outline of ourselves-the only part of the "true" self that shows with the pending darkness of our lives. This outline we cannot remove...We cannot see beyond the silhouettes of others because that silhouette is all we allow. Its a term..... And dusk is where winter and I came "to terms"....
Monday, November 11, 2013
Up in this canyon I found peace and serenity that I have not had for months...The total quietness was loud and inspiring...The singing Hermit thrush spoke to me and let me know that I am not so totally lost anymore...Here up in the no where, I started finding myself...again....
Sunday, March 27, 2011
My seasons are varied...they are also tried and true. This does not mean that I know who I am or where I am going-not really a bad thing. My seasons often blend with my soul...and my soul often drifts in the currents, rolls with the tides, and bursts with the blows of whales. I so often get lost in the world and once in awhile I just have to stop...breathe in~ and breathe out~ and get my heart, my mind, and yes...even my soul back in sync with the tides. It is the true rhythm of life. The tides are the constant of life. Yes, my heart is governed by the comings & goings of the tide.
I have often referred to Cape Point as my soul place. I believe that we are kindred spirits, soul mates of sorts. I have seen the seasons of the point and they much match mine. Spirits are like tides...they have their highs and their lows. The winter whales drifting by coincide with my drifting mind and the pelicans of fall mirror the sereneness that I get from this environment. The shells that I pick up remind me that only I know me and only I can protect myself with my own shell. My foot prints in the sand right along side with the prints of the gulls and shorebirds bind us throughout all time and around the globe. The by-the-wind sailors that I pick up off the shore in summer gives me hints that destiny gives me my direction and the sea pansies that I "pluck" from the beach give me my "bouquets". Sea turtles aid me in keeping dreams alive--but not necessarily keeping them mine. The red knots pass their hopes and dreams to me as they briefly pass through...to their own seasons. Sea glass pieces that I find show me inner beauty in the most ironic of items. Sanderlings share their joy and enthusiasm with me, but yet always make me realize that they will always be here...somewhere...along this stretch of beach, but I will not. They will carry on for me...And in my meandering thoughts of the day I will think of them. And the horse shoe crab...it revives hope and teaches me about the resiliancy of life over eons of time. A very passive survivor in ways I would love to learn. It lends faith and revives hope. The winter months at the point bring the time for reflection as many desert the shores...but here I am, still there, and absorbing what is me. A very peaceful time at the point. The dunes, the breeze...it IS this environment. And it is where I find inspiration. These are the seasons of the point, hence the seasons of me. They are varied. They are tried and true.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
At different times in our lives someone always quips us with a saying or a piece of advice that for some reason or another stays with us for a lifetime. In a feel good & comforting sort of way it is strange, but yet eerie at times because you know there is meaning there somewhere...perhaps just not evident yet. The quip has not reached its time yet, but only been planted. Some of these quips may have great meaning in our lives & lead us down paths that are obvious. Other quips may only lead to a meandering thought process that takes us on small journeys in our lives. A karma journey.
My mother once told me that on some days you just have to make your own sunshine. While I knew what she was telling me and I did apply it to my life several times since --sometimes successful and sometimes not-- there was always an effort there to get it to work. But this was just one of many quips that have stuck with me. But karma being karma it pops back from time to time.
Yesterday it popped back in on my way to work. A very dreary and very rainy morning. Chilly, damp, and drab. One of those days that you just keep moving with the flow because you just do. As I headed out the door shielding myself from the rain drops there were three American robins in the yard. Two were pursueing their ways around in circles as they chased one another and "quipped" each other while the other stood on the sandstone bench singing--really singing! They were not concerned with the rain coming down on them. While I was watching these robin life events take place a Song sparrow sang. I looked up and there he was on the bill of my pelican weathervane--singing as it slowly swayed with the breeze giving direction that he cared nothing for. He was not concerned with the rain coming down. After driving just a short piece from the house on the back road and not moving at a fast pace at all (rain tends to do this to me) I heard the loud call of an Eastern meadowlark. I looked over to the road side to see it perched triumphantly on a fence post with its yellow breast shining like the sunshine rising. Its head thrown back in all glory of the song it belted forth. And the rain...it still fell. At the end of the road at the stop sign there was another fence post. Atop of it sat a male Red-winged blackbird--shiny & glossy with his red epaulet flaming red with majesty! And from his throat he proclaimed with all of his heart a "o-kee-ree" that rang with sunshine!
I knew karma had come around...and I heard mom saying "some days you just have to make your own sunshine...". The difference here was that the birds did not have to make their own sunshine --they were the sunshine! They were the sunshine that I was missing on that day. It was there the whole while--I just was not seeing it. And while I sometimes feel that I have to work so hard to apply that theory--the birds never do. They just are...They see the beauty in all! Clouds or sun, cold or hot...The beauties of life are simple and the sunshine is always there...We just have to stay in touch and not wander off to far in the dark.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
My heart...yes... has been to the very edge. My soul has been there with it - each time recovering with hesitation. This hesitation of returning becomes much longer with each trip to the edge.
Some birds just overflow with their environment--they ARE their environment...body, mind, and soul. There is no hesitation there--they just are. And this "just are" is what pushes me to that edge...they make me "see" and they make me "feel". Have you ever really and truly "felt" beauty? It puts that big lump into your throat and when you swallow the tears well up into your eyes and you feel that great lump in the pit of your stomach as you realize that you are holding your breath. Its a feeling that I never want to recover from...it is the "feeling of life"...of "being"... It is what lets ME be ME...I want to be ME...
Have you ever seen & heard a flock of sandhill cranes fly over? The mere sound of their voices wells up into my chest. Its a beauty of freedom and of true wildness. It is of being--just being...It is of grace.
Have you ever heard the calls of a flock of tundra swans in the evening and could only see their silhouettes as they flew over, hear the whirring of their wings, and the bobbling of their long necks? By the hundreds? I have... The sound of their voices will haunt you with truth and certainty...the certainty that your soul will never recover... I don't want it too. I took flight with them that night and I WAS...just WAS... They grasped the dusk and made it their own that night. I was an intruder on the edge.
The peregrine falcon that sat on the driftwood stump day after day on the outer banks at the point--in sleet, rain, and wind-- and yet endured because it was a true & tried spirit. It showed me endurance and how to embrace life. This WAS a true peregrine falcon in the environment that it should be in. It was true...it was life...it was an environment of its own!
The brown pelican that I flew with...we are still flying...side by side. Companions. And the great shearwater that flew in out of nowhere over the open ocean still soars out there, shearing the water and carrying many a heart on its back.
And not of flight of the air, but of flight of the deep...the humpback whale off of the point...the one that "showed me fin"...Thank you...carry my heart, my soul, and my spirit into the depths with you...for a moment, I was ME.
These "souls" epitomize "true life" for me. The epitomize a whole environment within themselves and lets us have brief glimmers of their "just being". They take you to the edge...they make you feel...and hope that we NEVER recover!