Tree Rattle

I heard the Trees rattle this morning. I've never heard that before. The wind had picked up again, causing the branches to knock against each other. Of course, that happens whenever the wind blows, but the long deep freeze we are having is unusual.

The completely frozen branches sounded like dried coral in a wind chime. I suppose this kind of thing happens further North all the time, but for me it is something new. My culture invites me to worry about whether the trees can survive this cold, but I remember that the trees have old wisdom. They have been living on this planet through all sorts of weather for a long time. How they get through this will be a manifestation of that wisdom.

Then it occurs to me that Humans have been living on this planet for a long time, too. We have survived through all different types of weather as well. We learned how to get through. I wonder where in me this ancient wisdom is lurking.

Today, I will be paying attention to ways in which my ancient wisdom might be showing itself and effecting what I do in response to this remarkable cold as I listen to the Trees rattle.

Snowflake

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a single Snowflake falling. I tuned my head to get a better look, but it was lost in the white background. It got me thinking about how that single flake was unlike any other flake that had been or will be.

This reminds me about the miraculous uniqueness of every part of this amazing Creation I get to be a part of, and the importance of me valuing and enacting my own uniqueness.

Today, I will be remembering Snowflake as she inspires me to be more fully who I am.

Crow's Call

It was still cold this morning, but the wind had died down. Fine snow flakes floated down like dust. I realized Crow had been calling. I hadn't been listening. I was caught up in my thoughts about the cold.

This reminds how powerful my thoughts can be. Rather than noticing what is happening around me, I was living in worry about the cold.

Crow finally got a response from family in the East. Today, I will pay attention to the power of my thoughts and notice when they are distracting me from Crow's call.

Dangerous Cold

The air temperature this morning was one degree. The record for today is negative three. With the wind chill, it feels like negative twenty. My culture uses words like brutal and dangerous to describe this kind of cold. I am invited to consider the cold as a threat to me personally.

But the cold is not about me. It is not dangerous, it just is. I can make choices in relation to the cold that will put me in danger, but that is about my choices, not the cold itself. The cold that is difficult for me, just like the warmth that is difficult for some other creatures, it just what that: Cold. What I choose to do in it is what determines it's effect on me.

Today, I will be paying attention to the choices I make and their effects, and declining invitations that suggest that the weather is responsible for my mistakes. 

Mouse and Snow

This kind of snow is perfect for Mouse. The crust on the first Snow covered by the light fluffy stuff we got two days ago means she can tunnel from place to place more easily. While she is under the snow it is harder for Coyote and Owl to find her.

But she has to run on top of the Snow sometimes. When she does, the Snow does not serve her anymore. When she is on top of the Snow, Coyote and Owl have the advantage. Mouse's dark brown fur against the bright white snow makes her very easy to see, and her tracks connect and expose her tunnels.

This gets me thinking about the balance of Love. For Mouse, Owl, and Coyote, Snow is a help and a problem at the same time. No one gets all of the advantage, nor does anyone get all of the struggle. Love gives each opportunities and risks. What Mouse and Owl and Coyote choose to do with what they are given is up to them.

Today, I will be on the lookout for the opportunities that Love gives me, and paying attention to the choices I have that, like Snow for Mouse, are perfect for me.

Christmas Starts Today

I woke up this morning and realized that I have had Christmas backwards all these years. Up, till now it has been about preparations, and planning for the big day. Family comes together and the staging is set. When the day arrives, we share gift and stories and a great deal of joy, and then it is over. Along with it's end leaves the invitation to be a bit kinder to each other, more patient and more forgiving.

But what are we celebrating?

Jesus didn't show up to say that everything was awesome. Even if I take up the Christian story of Jesus, the big boss doesn't send in a supervisor because things are going well. The supervisor shows up when there is a problem. And the supervisor's arrival doesn't signal the end of the work, but the beginning.

Today, I am taking up a new vision of Christmas, where Christmas marks he beginning of something, not the culmination of months of preparation. To me, the message Jesus brought was about the true nature of Love and that it is our human responsibility to care for one another. Rather than the end, Christmas day will be the start of another opportunity to live more fully in the message of Love and caring, sacrifice and commitment. Today, I pledge to take up this message. I will Love more, care more, and work harder not to be distracted by fear and judgment and doubt.

Love

To say that hate is the opposite of love is to say that the Moon is the opposite of the Sun. Like the solar system, hate and anger and joy and hunger and happiness all live within the context of Love, just like the planets live within the influence of the Sun. Each planet manifests it's relationship to the Sun in different ways, but each is still a planet of the Sun.

Fear and laughter, hate and joy, pain and ecstasy are all part of Love. What I choose to manifest is up to me. The power in that choice is profound. Today, I will take responsibility for the how I choose to manifest Love in my life. I will be aware of the power I wield, and the effects of the choices I make.

7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor XIV-The Power of Change

Ice Path

It is sill possible to see the bricks in the walkway up to the cabin, but they are covered with a thin sheen of ice. From the looks of the forecast, the ice will be there for a while. This isn't the first time it has happened. When it does, it would take ice climbing crampons to safely navigate the path.

Our solution is to find a new path, and we do. This morning you can see the tracks branching out into the ice covered snow that surrounds our familiar root. Regardless of the ice we find on our path, we can still get where we are going, we just find a new way to get there.

The ice will melt. New snow will come. It will get warmer. All this is coming. But for today, we find new routs, that create new possibilities.

The Plan

I distinctly remember the first time I allowed myself to give up on “the plan.” It's a long story that culminates with my family; myself, my wife, and two very young children, stuck in highway traffic in a non-air conditioned car on a very hot summer day heading south, away from the beach.

“The Plan” was to reconnecting with some old friends at a party in the city. We had made a commitment, and, up till that moment, if I committed to doing something, that commitment overruled anything that showed up in my path. It could have been my children's flushed faces, or my own ambivalence, or the occasional sea breeze that could still reach us from the, as yet, not too distance coast. Whatever it was, somehow I was able to let “the plan” go. We pulled off at the next exit, and headed for the Ocean.

Predictability, our friends in the city were understanding. They issued as a rain check and wished us well. I don't remember much about what happened after turning around. It seems the lesson wasn't in what happened next, but in the turning itself.

Since then, “the plan” has lost much of it's power. Rather than a blue print of what will happen, it is a scaffolding around what might. It is a soft story of possibility that lets us figure out what we might want to take along, but it doesn't limit us or prohibit us from changing course along the way.

“The plan” has a way of sneaking back into my life. Like most problems, it likes to connect itself to things that matter to me. It tries to connect itself to ideas like responsibility and letting other people down.

I have found that the best way for me to determine when “the plan” is trying take over is to pause and ponder. If I can stop what I'm doing, take a couple of breathes, notice what's going on around me, and still feel good about my next steps, I will continue on. If, however, I am pulled to put my head down, ignore some of what is happening, and forge ahead, I can be pretty sure “the plan” is working it's magic.

Today, I will be looking out for times when “the plan” tries to take over and blind me from seeing options. I will avoid the seduction of commitments that don't mean anything to anyone but “the plan” and allow my day to find it's way illuminated by the light of the possibilities that arise.

Early Snow

When the eleven o'clock snow storm starts at eight in the morning, I can get caught up in thoughts that something is amiss. Then I take a breath and realize that the snow starts when it starts. 

My work is to attend to what I can control, what I do in response. The morning wood run will be a bit wetter, and I'll have to start shoveling a bit earlier. Other than that I will sit back and enjoy the beauty around me.

Toe Lesson III

I will find out tomorrow if the risk of amputation still looms. For today, however, I have ten toes. I am grateful for my toes and whatever time I have left with all of them.

This reminds me how easily I can take things for granted, including my toes.

Today, I will use my toe as a reminder to pay attention to all of my blessings, to my fingers and legs and arms and feet and friends and health, to the Sky and Earth and Air and on and on. There are many.  If I lose my toe it's absence will serve as a reminder of how rich my life truly is.

Fire's Time

Some mornings the fire is harder to start than others. There are a number of factors that effects this, but ultimately, it comes down to time. I have to invest more time in the fire when it is hard to start.

The fire reminds me that my life is interwoven with billions of other lives including the lives of the Trees that are now my firewood. How their lives play out leading up to the time that they spark into flame is not something I can control. The fire will start when it will start. My role is to participate, add air and fuel and, with patience, in its time, fire will arrive.

Toe Lesson II

With the fresh Snow and Rain of yesterday, my frozen barefoot tracks no longer exist. They have been replaced by the half barefoot/half booted tracks required by my frostbite healing process.

I encounter my tracks and think about impermanence. My tracks will change. My toe will change. The sadness I felt when I saw my barefoot tracks can be a part of the past. The image only lives in my mind. The tracks are gone. I can let them go if I chose to, or I can hang onto the memory and allow it to continue to cause me pain. The choice is mine, in this moment, right here, right now.

Toe Lesson I

As I was walking the path to my sitting spot this morning, I was confronted by my barefoot tracks frozen in last weeks snow. Seeing my tracks brought me to a place of regret. Because of the frostbite on my toe, I will have to wear shoes for the rest of the winter. I will have to find another way to stay centered and present.

Then it occurred to me that the reason I have frostbite is because being barefoot didn't keep me present and centered in the first place. It came to me that my frostbitten toe, which is now numb but healing, is the answer. It is a reminder of what happened, but also a reminder of where I am now. The discomfort it brings me mirrors the tactile experience of being barefoot. It is also a reminder to reflect on exactly what I am attending to now, what I might be missing, and what the consequence of that can be.

I am excited about the direction my toe will take me. I look forward to finding out what I notice now.

7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor XIII-Use Your Doubt

Frost Bite

When I woke up this morning, my toe was still numb. I got up, did my breath work and headed out to urgent care. By all accounts it is a minor case of frostbite, effecting a small area of one toe. As long as it doesn't get worse, I should be able to keep the toe. Now, all I can do is wait.

Waiting requires patience. Waiting opens up time for regret and shame and guilt. What I could have done. What I should have done. What people will think. All these thoughts have been a part of my patience.

So why didn't I go put my boots on when I started to see signs of trouble? It was that question that really got things rolling.

Why?

I started thinking about why I have been barefoot for the past ten years. It was about connection. Being barefoot helps me stay connected to the moment I am in. It is not about getting people's attention or suffering when it gets cold. And it is certainly not about ignoring my physical experience.

So why I didn't do anything?

Because I put what I was trying to accomplish ahead of taking care of myself. I put my expectations for myself ahead of what has actually happening to my foot. I allowed my ego to take over and distract me from the moment I was in.

Now I am back to this moment, and I have another choice to make. I can let the pain I feel right now be a reminder of what I didn't do, or I can allow it to be a testament to what I can do now. If I am acting consistently with my intentions, I will be paying attention to this moment. I will be using this pain as a reminder to take care of me. I will be keeping my toe warm and doing what I can to heal. I will be directing my energy into this moment, not the past or the future, or my imaginings of what might happen next.

Shame and guilt and regret will not serve me, regardless of what happens. The best I can do for me is to be here, now, in the midst of the effects of all of my actions. What happens next is not for me to know, so I can let it go.

Finch

As I sat breathing this morning, I noticed a group of Finches searching tree branches for bugs. I was humbled by these tiny bird's ability to survive and thrive in such cold weather. It seems like their small bodies would freeze in a matter of moments.

When I am out I this type of cold I am protected by layers, and even still I can only take it for so long before retreating to the warmth of the cabin. As a kid I thought that if you fell asleep in the cold you would die. I got this idea for movies and TV shows, where imperiled adventurers struggle to keep each other awake during long cold nights. Yet there was Finch. With no cabin to retreat to, she goes about her day, cold or no cold.

Finch got me thinking about the mythologies we create for ourselves. Mythologies about what is possible, and about what we can and can't survive. Having slept out in the cold, with appropriate gear, I know that it's not a death sentence. It's actually pretty amazing, but for so long I believed it was something I could not do. So often the limits I place on myself are only real in my mind. Once I test those limits, I realize that don't actually exist.

Today, I will be paying attention to times when what I think I can't do gets in the way of me experiencing what is actually possible.

Cold Air

My first inhale this morning stung my nose and reminded me that when the Air gets this cold if I breath in too quickly, I will start coughing. The chilly Air requires that I be mindful of my breath.

Today, I am grateful for this cold reminder to take time, slow down, and pay attention to the effects of my actions.

Frozen Tracks

Exiting the Eastern door this morning, I was grated by my barefoot tracks. They were frozen in the slushy snow now turned to ice. Remnants of last evenings sojourn outside to breathe, they drew my attention back to the wonder of tracks.

Captured in the ice were remnants of me; how I walked in the ice last night, on my toes to avoid as much of the chill as possible, where I walked, straight out to the screen house and back, and when I walked, before it was cold enough for the slush be freeze into this morning's ice.

But there is a wider arc contained in these tracks. These tracks, combined with all the tracks I have ever set down through my steps and my actions, connect back to the beginnings of me. And the tracks of the beginnings of me connect back to the beginnings of everything. My beginnings connect back to my parents and their beginnings. Those tracks connect back to their parents and on and on back to the beginnings of everything. My tracks in the ice also connect forward to me, right here, right now.

I appreciate this reminder of my connection back to the beginnings that link to me now. Today, I will be mindful of the tracks I leave today and what they reflect about my intentions for living, and how they manifest what I hold dear.

Snow Feel

The view that greeted me as I walked out the Eastern door this morning looked like a black and white photo. The light was not yet bright enough to bring color to the land. In the dimness, the only way I could tell it was snowing was by feeling the flakes on my face. This got me thinking about the importance of paying attention to all my senses. My eyes did not know it was snowing, neither could I smell the snow.

Today, I will be paying attention to how all of my scenes inform me about the world around me. I'll do my best to avoid the illusions created when I rely only on a few.

No Wind

It took me a while this morning to notice that the wind wasn't blowing. It got me thinking about the importance of notice what isn't as much as what is. It's easy for assumptions to keep me from noticing what isn't happening around me.

Today, I will be paying as much attention to what is absent as what is present.

Here's the new video. Hope you find it useful.

Snow Light

The snow covers up the skylights, but I notice that it is still a bright morning. It's because of the reflected light from the snow on the ground and hanging on the trees. In fact, on days like today, light seems to be everywhere. This gets me thinking about balance. No matter how dark things can get, there is always light somewhere. It's just up to me to keep my eyes open so I can see it.

Cold Air

The cold morning air and thoughts of the coming storm distract me from the moment I am in. Thoughts about keeping the cabin warm remove me from what I am doing; sitting and breathing.

In this moment, I can not control the fires I will make in the coming days, and there will be no moment in which I can control the size and effects of the storm.

So I return to what I am doing. I breathe in, and I breathe out. Now I am typing. That is what I am doing. That is what I can control. The rest will have to take care of itself.

What Do We Do?

There is a tremendous amount of sadness and confusion in the cabin as my children learn that one of their musical inspirations has been accused of rape. They don't know what to do in response.

This question of how to respond gets me thinking, “In order to achieve what?”

As we continue to muddle through what seems to be a particularly complex part of our cultural history, I plan to use this question as an aid to keep my responses as thoughtful and intentional as possible.

Worry?

I sit out in the warm morning air and am invited into a place of worry. Is it fluky weather, or further evidence that we have done great damage to the Earth?

I believe that everything that happens simply creates further possibilities.

Worry is passive. It invites us to wonder things like, “Should this have happened?” Or “What will happen next?”

I prefer to say, “This is what has happened. What is possible now as a result?”

That's what I'm doing today.

Noticing

Not two miles North of the cabin, US route 95 carries 6 lanes of traffic up and down the Seacoast of New England. As close as it is, there are times when the wind blows just right, and I can no longer hear the highway. This morning was one of those times. All I could hear was my breath, the accommodating breeze, and two Owls hooting to the Southeast. I am so used to ignoring the noise of the highway, that it took me a while to realize that it wasn't there.

This got me thinking about how routinized expectations can get me to miss things. I was so used to ignoring the sound of the highway, that I almost didn't notice that it wasn't there. Once I did, I realized that I could hear the sound of my breathing. Noticing the quiet opened me up to what else was available to me.

Today, I will be noticing times when what I think is happening gets in the way of me noticing what is.

Barefooting II

I had to do some cutting of trees yesterday, so I had to put my boots on. The first thing I noticed as I walked out of the cabin and off the front porch, was how little I was paying attention to where my feet were. Having walked off the porch many times without shoes, I am aware of how aware I have to be. I need to notice if there is anything there on the ground that I might not want to step in or on. In my boots, I just trudged along, eyes up, focused on where I was going, not where I was.

This brings me back to the reason I choose not to wear shoes in the first place. It is because of the connection it creates between me and the moment I am in. I have to be paying attention to where I am to keep my feet safe. Barefooting is a concrete practice that creates tangible reminders of what happens when I get distracted. It has given me many gifts.

Today, I am gratetful for the gifts in find in the moments I am in.

Barefooting

As a dedicated bare-footer, there are times when I actually have to wear shoes. One is when I'm running the chainsaw. To go barefoot with a chainsaw in my hands would be foolish, and disrespectful of what the saw can do.

This got me thinking about times when some of my practices have to be set aside because of respect, practicality, or common sense. Whether it's going barefoot, sitting and breathing every morning, or saying “Hi” to everyone I meet along my path, I do what I do not because I have to, but because I choose to.

Sometimes they are choices I make to stand up against the status quo. Sometimes they are choices I make to challenge myself or confront fear or doubt. But they are all choices. Sometimes I can even choose not to do them, to stand up against the idea that things can't change.

Whatever the reason and whatever the choice, today I am paying attention to the power of choices, and being grateful for all the effects they have had on my life.

Cherry Tree

Due North of the cabin, stands Cherry Tree. Cherry Tree is probably the oldest tree on the part of the land that was once open Cow pasture. It's mostly dead, though there is a small section of it that still leafs out in Spring.

It is a beautiful tree, tall and expansive, it's many trucks reaching high into the Sky. Even it's dead branches have a specific artistic grace that I find alluring.

I know it will fall soon, or I will cut it down, but for now, it stands tall and beautiful, available for me to appreciate.

Cherry Tree reminds me of the truth that everything is temporary, but even so, there is beauty for me to appreciate if I choose to see it right here, right now. 

Action

On the other side of Pinegrove, I heard some big machines. It reminded me of the day the electric company came in and cleared around the power lines. Their clearing created an opening in the woods that disconnected Pinegrove from the woods further on. I was really upset that day to see such changes in the forest. But today, wondering if they were coming back to clear it out again, I get thinking about how I tend to get settled into a place and think, now that I'm here, everything should stay the same.

Thing is, some changes need to happen in order for me to stay living where I live. Clearing out around the electric lines benefits me. It's part of what keeps the lights on at the cabin. Mindful, thoughtful change is essential if I am to continue to do what I do. Mindless thoughtless change is damaging, and doesn't help anyone.

Today, I will be mindful of my actions. I will be considering their effects and their consequences for others and myself.