Birch Glow

The nearly full moon sets in the West illuminating Birch tree in the East. The bright white bark glows against the Star lit Eastern sky. Time passes, and Sun approaches the horizon. Birch bark glow seems to fade, but does it?

The Moon is still bright behind me. Is it seeming to dim because of the brightening background? This gets me thinking about how what I think I see is actually a manifestation of contrast; bright foreground, dark background. Small changes happen and everything can seem quite different. I wonder if there are times when I get so caught up in the way things were that I don't recognize the beauty of how things are, now?

Deer View

This morning I see patches of bare ground that look like continents growing into vanishing Snow Oceans. I wonder when the Deer will start tromping through the woods again. I haven't seen them since the last round of melt/freeze turned the land into a territory of Ice. I wonder what they have been eating? Will they make it through the Winter?

My thoughts about survival bring my attention to the mythology in my culture that the goal of life is always to survive regardless of cost or consequences. Then I wonder if Deer operates within the confines of this mythology. I wonder, if she doesn't, what she is able to see that this mythology distracts me from?

Dim Star

This morning I saw a dim point of light reflected in a mirror. It was, in fact, so dim that I couldn't see it if I looked directly at it. I had to view it out of the corner of my eye. This got me thinking about how my culture invites me to approach things directly. It got me thinking about how sometimes the most useful way to approach a situation presents itself in the moment, requiring that I stay open to what the moment is calling for. I wonder how many times, when I am looking directly at a challenge, I am missing something I could see by looking at it from a different perspective?

7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor XVIII-Choices

Path Choice

This morning there is an assortment of calls blanketing the woods. I start to wonder who I am hearing, and what I might learn. Then it occurs to me that each call comes from someone who is living a life. At this moment an almost infinite number of beings is making choices that will unfold, and I am one of those beings. I settle into an experience of shared journey. What is served by taking up a mythology of being alone?

Heart Warmer

I can hear the “see-saw” call of the Chickadee even in the coldest days of winter, but it always reminds me of Spring. I heard it this morning, and though the air is warming, it is far from Springtime. I settle back and notice how the beauty of the Birdsong creates warmth in my heart.

Mob Calls

A Mob of Crows had gathered in the Northern woods. Their caws greeted me as a walked outside this morning. From the sound of it, there were Jays mixed among them, though I only caught glimpses of any of the actual birds.

Then they all fell silent. So long and complete was their silence, that I pondered for a moment whether they had somehow flown off without my noticing. Then I heard another Mob, far off in the Northwest. Was the Northern Mob listening?

Eventually the chain of caws erupted again strengthening my curiosity. How did the Northern mob know to listen? Could they her the further mob over their own calls? Or were their calls a response to calls I had missed?

I am left to ponder there question, grateful for having heard their familiar banter. I wonder what questions the rest of my day will bring?

Sun Blaze

“Red in the Morning, Sailors take warning.” Before I got out of the Eastern door this morning, I could see the gorgeous deep red Sunrise unfolding. As I sat drinking it in, a was distracted by the old sailor's warning. The beauty of the sky forecast unsettled weather to come. Deep reds blazed into liquid oranges, then I thought about how the weather might effect my day. When my attention returned to the Sunrise, I noticed I had missed something. The reds where less intense. The oranges were fading. The mounting Sun was taking over, brightening everything, and diminishing the intensity of the early morning firestorm. My thoughts about what might be blocked my ability to take in what actually was. How powerful, the seduction of the future? How would my attention to the present have to change so that I might sustain my focus?

Snow Crunch

This kind of Snow makes everything loud. I hear the Ice falling from the Trees as my attention is drawn to someone crunching through the Snow to the North. I notice that I am drawn to look. I want to see what I can hear. In the still dim morning light I can not see anything, but the sound of someone crunching through the Snow is quite plain. Plain enough that I can tell whomever it is is heading West.

I am struck by my desire to see what I can hear. Is hearing not enough? Am I missing something by not simply listening?

Tree Crackle

There is a distinct sound that Squirrel makes when she is scampering up a tree trunk. That's what is sounded like this morning as the breeze started to bend the ice laden branches in the woods. The tree crinkle started in the Northeast. The it jumped to a spot just South of me. It was as if a whole gathering of Squirrels had leapt from the North woods across the Cabin and landed in the Southern woods.

I have never herd this tree crinkle before, and I was struck by the infinite variety of sounds Wind and Tree can make. I am grateful I was there to listen. I wonder what I might hear next?

The Power of Description

This morning I am distracted by the power of description. I describe this morning as a warm morning because it is thirty degrees warmer than other mornings I have experienced, but is it warm? What effects does this description have on me?

Toe Lesson V

To say that my toe healed isn't really accurate. What was my toe, that froze that cold December night, is gone. It has slowly been replaced by a new toe that is pink and full of feeling. Now I start the process of getting it used to being without coverings.

I look at my foot and am grateful that I have five toes. I am also grateful for all that my toes can do, and all my foot can do. Then I notice all my ankle and leg can do, and so on as I start to take in all that is possible with a body that is still pretty capable.

I also realize how easy it is for me to forget to notice all my body is doing as I move through my day. Why is it so easy for me to forget to notice and be grateful? I wonder how slowly I would have to move through my day in order to notice and be grateful for all I have?

7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor XVII-Singing

Elder Flower

I put dried Elder flower in my tea at the first sign of a cold. My empirical culture asks, “Does it do anything?” The water swells the flowers. I taste something when I drink the tea. (To me it tastes like cocoa.) The concoction warms me, but does it “do anything?”

Maybe the question is actually, “Does it do what I want it to do? Does it make the cold go away? Does it cure me?”

Then I realize that I do not know what the purpose of the cold is in the first place. Nor do I know what the purpose of the Elder is.

Drinking the tea is a response to the cold. Perhaps the cold is a response, as well; teaching me to create antibodies.

I wonder if my expectations about the Elder keep me from noticing what it actually does.

Bird Song

As I sit and listen to the Bird song, I wonder if it compels me because of its generosity?

Snow Tracks

The Snow falls silently in the twilight of morning. It piles up, now three inches deep. It gets me thinking about tracks. A trail of tracks links back to the origins of everything and forward to the person who left them. When I find a trail, it is the intersection of me and them. I wonder who I will intersect with today?

Human Song

This morning the air was such that I could hear the highway to the West, and the Ocean to the East. Suddenly, I head a person call out. They did not seem distressed. Perhaps they were calling out to a dog, but it occurred to me how infrequently I hear Humans calling out. I hear their signs; car noise, doors slamming, chain saws buzzing, but not their voices. Loud as we are as a culture, we are rarely loudest with our voices, and even rarer our singing voices. I often hear birds singing long before I see them. I have seen thousands more Humans than I have heard people singing.

Yet we can sing. Some say that we, as a species, sang before we spoke. Why did we stop? When will we start again? If we sang before we spoke, it must have been for some purpose. Have we lost that purpose? If so, is it waiting for us? While we are talking and talking trying to find our purpose, is it a song waiting to be sung?

Life

Inside the South facing kitchen window, plants are green and bright, composing as they grow and become more plantlike.

Outside the window, plants are brown and tan, decomposing as they grow and become more Earth like.

This reminds me that Life grows in all directions all the time.

I wonder what kind of Life my expectations might keep me from noticing.

Housefly II

As I sit down to breath I notice Housefly, still lying frozen in front of me. As I do, it occurs to me that, around Housefly, are White Pine needles, Oak and Maple leaves, and a variety of other reflections of death, decay, and transformation. I wonder why, when first I saw Housefly days ago frozen in the Snow, I didn't attend to these other dead things. I get curious as to why I was struck by a body and not a needle or a leaf. I then take in that the Snow upon which Housefly was originally lying has also transformed without my appreciation. I wonder what else my corpo-centric perspective is blinding me to?

Blue Sky

I look up and see the clouds momentarily part. “Blue Sky,” I think. Then I think, “But only because I am in this spot.” This gets me thinking about perspective. The intermingling of events that has me here, noticing this patch of blue, that is only a patch of blue to me, right now. I wonder what will coalesce to happen next?

Transformation

This morning, I notice the sound of water dripping off the roof of the cabin. I see the water drops falling through the air. Further off, my view is obscured by fog rising up from Snow. Water reminds me that all around me is transformation. I wonder where this water is going? I see my breath emerge as mist, and I remember I am part of the transformation. I wonder what I am becoming?

7 billion geniuses-The Music Metaphor XVI-Listening

Warm Energy

As I walk out the Eastern door, I notice how much more relaxed I feel in the warmer weather. I wonder why? I believe, in that moment, that the warmth creates more possibilities. I feel more energy when it is warmer outside. The it occurs to me that the energy I feel when it is warmer must be there in the colder temperatures, as well. I am left wondering how I might stay connected to this energy even when the temperatures dip.

Question II

Why is it so hard for me to move away from a position of statements into a position of questions? 

Question

What if we have become a culture of statements and not questions? What effects might this have on me?

Owl Hoot

As I walked out the Eastern door of the cabin this morning the first thing I heard was Owl. She was hooting in the Southeastern forest. I found myself, in the silence between her hoots, anticipating her next call. I worked to pay attention to the silence, and heard the Ocean.

My culture invites me to listen to the notes and not the space in between. It asks me to forget that notes without space is not music.

Today, I will be paying attention to times when I am invited to ignore the silences in my day. I will remember that these are the times when listening is happening. Perhaps, then, I will hear the Ocean.

Housefly

I settled down into my spot this morning and noticed Housefly lying dead on the snowbank in front of me. I noticed my mind immediately trying to explain the scene. “Housefly had blown down from a tree during the storm,” or “Housefly had been alive some how and caught in the wind, frozen in mid flight, coming to rest here.”

Then I found my thoughts turning to how I might write the scene down.  I wondered how I would explain the experience to others.  I begin to look for details that I should include.

It took some doing for me to return to the experience I was having; of simply being with Housefly and the Snowbank and the cold. I began the dance of being with Housefly and the moment, and then being with the description and my thoughts. The dance continued until I came back inside, had a shower, ate breakfast, started the fire; Until now.

Today, I will be noticing times when I am in my thoughts about an experience, and not in the actual  experience.

Bird Song

As I sit outside this morning listening, I hear the wind howl and the trees pop. But through the frigid din there is another sound. It is the birds singing. I resist the urge to characterize what they are doing in terms that I would understand. I don't know if they are calling to each other, or singing out in gratitude for the meager warmth the Sun brings.

I do known that their calls being me something. They bring me hope. They reconnect me to the knowledge that there will be a Spring to this Winter, and that as cold as it is right now, this too shall pass.

Once reconnected, I am able to see this moment in it's context. It is a profound moment of extreme experience that will not last. And it has lessons to teach me.

Today, I will work to stay open to these lessons.

Tree Dance

For a number of reasons, I couldn't go outside this morning. In stead I sat facing East behind a glass door. I saw the Trees dance in the Wind. They swayed and stopped than began again, each to her own rhythm.

As I watched, I wondered if I would have payed such close attention had I been outside. Outside, I would have been distracted by the feeling of cold and the sound of each gust. This got me thinking about how I might be able to attend more closely to each experience when they all are available; To see the trees dancing, and hear the creaking, and feel the chill on my face.

Today, I will be paying attention to when one of my sense experiences gets in the way of another. When this happens, I will attempt to heighten the other without diminishing the first.

7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor XV-What is Love Anyway?

The Coming Storm

As I sat outside this morning, I saw the snowflakes multiply from a few, to many. I am aware that my culture is inviting me to project my experience forward into the future, where the possible loss of electricity will create challenges, and where the predicted Snow will interrupt the expected flow of my day. As this happens, I feel my stomach tighten, and my breathing become shallow. I have to work to return to this time, and these Snowflakes, and the circumstances that surround me right here, right now.

Today, I will be working to be in the challenges that face me in the moments I am in, and resisting the invitation to expend energy on challenges that have yet to arise.

Toe Lesson IV

My toe is continuing to heal, but part of the healing process requires that I wear a sock on my left foot at all times. Yesterday, I found myself walking out to the reception room at my office wondering what the people I was about to meet would think about my one sock. As it happens, they never asked.

This morning I am aware that having to wear my sock has provided me with another opportunity to encounter ego, and it's invitations of shame. I am pondering the difference between humility and humiliation. Humility reminds me that I am on a path to greater awareness. Humiliation invites me to think of my sock as a testament to failure.

Today, I am declining the invitations of humiliation, and seeing my sock as a more public reminder of my intentions be more aware.

Cold Teacher

The ongoing deep cold invites me to be aware. There are things that I would normally do outside that, because of the cold, I either can't do, or have to prepare in order to do safely.

I appreciate the heightened awareness the cold requires. It asks me to slow down and avoid moving forward without thought.

Juniper Berries

There is a large Juniper on the South side of the cabin. Over the past few days, many birds have gathered there to eat the Berries. Yesterday and the day before there was a flock of Bluebirds. Today, there were two Robins.

Whether through communication or collaboration, or simply following each other, many birds will undoubtedly find the Juniper tree in the coming months. The gift of these berries will sustain many of my creature cousins. But each will have to make the trek to the Tree.

This reminds me that the Earth provides, but it does not give. What is available must be searched for, found, and used. Since I learn something from every step in the process, each step has value.

My culture invites me to focus only on the end; reaching the goal, scoring a point, eating the Berry. Today, I will be noticing the steps along the. I will be doing my best to recognize the value of what I learn and experience as I step. I will work to be aware of where I land and what possibilities become available as a result.