Outside tonight, I felt called to step off my comfortable spot on the porch and put my hands on the wet grass, put my face down to smell the wet earth. When I looked up, I glimpsed the moon for a moment through the swiftly moving clouds. A shudder passed through me at the sight of it; the glowing center in an otherwise dark landscape of clouds, and then to see the full outline of the moon beyond the clouds was delicious.
In moments like this, witnessing pure beauty, I have learned recently that I have a choice. I can let that shudder run through me, physically feel the delicious sensation of whatever I am witnessing. Or, as I newly discovered, I can open myself up as a channel of sorts, letting the wonder and appreciation flow through me and then out of me, out into the universe. By doing this, I forgo the physical pleasure, but then a deeper appreciation comes, an understanding of the meaning of the moment that grounds me, matures me. I sacrifice a fleeting pleasure for an understanding that invariably connects me more fully to the earth, helps me to grow in my relation to things.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Fine Lines
there is a fine line between always striving to improve oneself and always being disappointed with oneself. a fine line between living cautiously and living fearfully. i stumble on these lines, generally tending to walk on the less pleasant side.
when the boy asks "moon?" on cloudy nights, i tell him she's hiding behind the clouds. tonight he finally got a glimpse of what i've been trying to relay in words. we watched the skies outside tonight, and he was delighted, as usual, to see and talk about the moon. clouds moved in, obscuring the moon from time to time, and i explained to him what was happening. he fell silent and watched it all.
when the boy asks "moon?" on cloudy nights, i tell him she's hiding behind the clouds. tonight he finally got a glimpse of what i've been trying to relay in words. we watched the skies outside tonight, and he was delighted, as usual, to see and talk about the moon. clouds moved in, obscuring the moon from time to time, and i explained to him what was happening. he fell silent and watched it all.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Water
rain.
i've been praying outside for ten minutes each day. i usually go out at night, the time not presenting itself readily during the day.
tonight, grieving the dog, i felt the impulse to step off the porch and put my hand on the earth. on the way down the steps, the impulse shifted to touching the earth where the dog is buried, under the little magnolia we planted for him. once there, an impulse not only to touch the earth with my hand, but to kneel on it, lie on the cold, rain-soaked grass (in my warm, dry, cozy pyjamas). felt the cold water soaking into my pyjamas, the rain beginning to fall harder on my face, my hands. the water under the tree a little frightening, the way dark reflections can be. i looked in when i felt called to, saw only a silhouette of a figure looking out at me - another part of creation, i knew, another part of me, as we are all part of this whole. a person from another place, perhaps another time, another era, this being observing me in the water under it's tree.
gave thanks for the reminder, the understanding that we are all one and the same thing, in the end. began to ascend the steps to go inside, wanting to dry and change and get in my bed, but knew that i wasn't done with my learning yet for tonight. walked back down the steps and to the tree, lay on my side on the earth, then flat on my back. cold, cold water, cold air. rested my hand beyond my head, in the puddle under the tree. felt the raindrops, the quick shivering of my body, the icy water about my hand. then i gave in, remembered how to let go of my striving - striving to be warm, to be dry, to be elsewhere - and just swallowed this experience of being under the tree in the dark, wet night. the shivering stopped, the icy water surrounding my hand became not a discomfort but simply a sensation to be experienced, and i felt entirely peaceful. i saw with new eyes - the eyes that can comprehend the interconnections, that sees that we all live this life believing ourselves to be separate from one another, but that we all pass through the veil upon our bodily death and recover our knowing that we are all part of one. this is the supreme peace that is spoken of during "near death" experiences, is it not? this peace, when we return to the arms of creation and know our place there.
a fellow on the playground the other day said, on speaking of children's understanding of the world, "you're another me."
i've been praying outside for ten minutes each day. i usually go out at night, the time not presenting itself readily during the day.
tonight, grieving the dog, i felt the impulse to step off the porch and put my hand on the earth. on the way down the steps, the impulse shifted to touching the earth where the dog is buried, under the little magnolia we planted for him. once there, an impulse not only to touch the earth with my hand, but to kneel on it, lie on the cold, rain-soaked grass (in my warm, dry, cozy pyjamas). felt the cold water soaking into my pyjamas, the rain beginning to fall harder on my face, my hands. the water under the tree a little frightening, the way dark reflections can be. i looked in when i felt called to, saw only a silhouette of a figure looking out at me - another part of creation, i knew, another part of me, as we are all part of this whole. a person from another place, perhaps another time, another era, this being observing me in the water under it's tree.
gave thanks for the reminder, the understanding that we are all one and the same thing, in the end. began to ascend the steps to go inside, wanting to dry and change and get in my bed, but knew that i wasn't done with my learning yet for tonight. walked back down the steps and to the tree, lay on my side on the earth, then flat on my back. cold, cold water, cold air. rested my hand beyond my head, in the puddle under the tree. felt the raindrops, the quick shivering of my body, the icy water about my hand. then i gave in, remembered how to let go of my striving - striving to be warm, to be dry, to be elsewhere - and just swallowed this experience of being under the tree in the dark, wet night. the shivering stopped, the icy water surrounding my hand became not a discomfort but simply a sensation to be experienced, and i felt entirely peaceful. i saw with new eyes - the eyes that can comprehend the interconnections, that sees that we all live this life believing ourselves to be separate from one another, but that we all pass through the veil upon our bodily death and recover our knowing that we are all part of one. this is the supreme peace that is spoken of during "near death" experiences, is it not? this peace, when we return to the arms of creation and know our place there.
a fellow on the playground the other day said, on speaking of children's understanding of the world, "you're another me."
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