Diversions

As I head for my sitting spot this morning, I notice a piece of wood that didn't make it onto the wood shed. Until recently it was covered with Snow, so I didn't see it. This got me thinking about how the path of this piece of wood is completely different from the path it would have had had it made it into the wood pile. Being under the snow for so long, I t is too wet to burn this year. Depending on when I get around to tossing it into the shed, it may end up being too wet to burn ever, as it may begin to rot. This is true for me to. A minor change happens and my journey gets diverted in a new direction.

Doe Lesson

I exit the cabin through the Eastern door with the Dog that lives with us. As I do, I scan what is in front of me, not wanting to miss someone before they run or fly or scurry away. Dog is very excited, but I see nothing. I wonder if she isn't noticing some kind of afterimage of the Deer who was here yesterday. Then, not forty feet in front of me, Doe flips her tail up and trots Northeast toward Pine grove. Once there, she lays down, and looks back at me.

I am grateful to Doe for reminding me how much I have to learn about truly noticing what is right in front of me.

Ash

Every morning, before I light the fire, I have to remove some of yesterday's ashes from the firebox. My culture teaches me to think about ash as the remnants of something, as refuse.

As I scoop the ash from the wood stove I notice how beautiful it is. There seem to be a million different grays and shades of black. The shapes are as plentiful, from tiny specs smaller than a grain of dust to larger flakes. I study them for a moment before I release them into the ash bucket, where they collapse, fragile as a Snowflake, and billow up like smoke.

I am struck by this beautiful transformation I am privileged to witness.

Me Lens

I wake to find Doe bedded down, just Northwest of the yurt. Heather is singing in the basement and Doe seems to be listening. Her big ears are directed toward the cabin, and here eyes are focused in this direction. But is she?

This gets me thinking about how often I see my creature cousin through the lens of me. I don't know if Doe is listening, but I know that, if it were me, I would be listening.

I work to peel away from the limits of my expectations and experience the intersection of Doe and me. Doe's eyes close as her head moves to look Southeast. Doe chews. Doe turns her head to the West. Doe stands. Doe reaches down to eat something.

These seem like non-evaluative statements, but I am left wondering if there might be even more for me to see if I move further away from the lens of me.

7 Billion Geniuses-Healing

Intersections II

Returning to the screen house, I find Housefly is still there. I sit momentarily saddened by her demise, then I notice she is moving. The air is warmer today, and will be warmer still later in the day, so I decide that I will move her outside, but as I contemplate my actions it occurs to me how often I assume myself as the only actor in these plays.

“What will I do,” I ask myself? But I am not the only actor. There is also Housefly, and the person who built the screen house, their parents, my parents and Housefly's parents; the list could go on and on.

This brings me once again back to the idea of intersections. All of these actor's actions have intersected in this moment. Housefly's most recent action was to move. Mine was to move her. I left her resting on the railing of the deck. I don't know what she will do next. I will go inside and eat my breakfast.

Intersection

I sit in the screen house and notice Housefly, frozen to one of the screens. It will be clod today, so I don't know if she will thaw out and fly again, nor do I know if she will survive even if she does. Her food is frozen and tonight the air will once again be too cold for her.

Housefly's path and mine have crossed in this moment, and she gets me thinking about how I might intervene. This brings me to consider my intentions. I realize I want to help her, but I don't know how. Then I realize that I don't even know what I mean by “help.” I could try to move her out of the screen house, but that might injure her, and she might already be dead, so moving her would be of no use. 

I am struck by this experience as Housefly challenges me to consider the complexity of the idea of “help.” As I sit with the question, I return to the idea of crossing paths. I realize that all the while I have been thinking about how my crossing Housefly's path may be of service to Housefly. Then I realize the powerful effects of Housefly having crossed mine.

Air

This morning the cool air seemed somehow special. I drank it in and thought about how grateful I am to have access to clean breathable air.

Vernal Pool

Just East of yurt, the Vernal Pool has formed. Although it is quite early this year, I am grateful to see it. It's presence means that the creature cousins that will be born in it will be a part of our Spring. Vernal Pools are temporary and only last a few months at most, sometimes only for days.

The Pool gets me thinking about the importance of temporary things. How often I get seduced into thinking that things will last forever. Vernal Pool reminds me that they don't, and encourages me to appreciate the moments that present themselves when they do. In each moment lives an infinite number of possibilities for me to notice.

Sun Halo

The melting Snow creates mist in the cool morning air, as the Sun rises orange then yellow in the East. After cresting the horizon enough to be fully round, I see it shining at me though many Tree branches. All this creates the effect of a small rust colored halo encircling the Sun. As I wonder if anyone else is seeing what I am seeing, I am struck by my desire to share. It does not seem to me that it would improve the experience, I am simple caught by the uniqueness of what I am seeing and hoping someone else is able to see it as well.

As time passes the top of the halo becomes defuse and shafts of light begin to form. Moments later the rusty halo is gone, replaced by the next phase of this beautiful Sunrise. It occurs to me that even if someone else had been there with me, no one would have seen exactly what I saw. My experience is a combination of many factors, one of which is always me. I leave grateful for the Sunrise and wonder what the next moment will bring.

7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor XXI-Violent Choces

Earth Arc

As I sit this morning, Earth's arc unfolds before me. It unfolds independent of the judgments I make about myself or anything I see. What I am blinded to by the rules I foist upon her diminishes only me. The untethered arc of the Earth teaches me patience. I will allow myself the time I need for my blindness to lift.

Blue Blizzard

The Snow falls in light puffs from the Trees, gently floating down to the Earth, but the Sky is bright blue. This blizzard starts at the top of the Trees leaving the Sky clear so the Sun can shine through. Rain drips down from the roof of the cabin, as it occurs to me that I have never seen this before; A bright blue blizzard.

This day reminds me that every day is unlike any other. It's uniqueness is always available for me to see, but sometimes I miss it, distracted by this thought or that. I am grateful that I noticed this one.

Dog Lesson

This morning I had to feed the Dog that lives with us. My wife usually does it, but she is out of town. The only thing that stood in the way of her getting to her food was me getting up. Still, she seemed happy to get her ears rubbed before I got out of bed. I'm not saying it would have lasted forever, but in that moment she seemed content to stand by the bed while I was still in it.

She got me thinking about the idea of Love being more important than food. We've figured out a way to produce enough food to feed the whole world (it seems that starvation is more a question of politics than supply), but it doesn't seem like we've figured out how to Love the whole world.

Well, I did eventually feed the Dog, but I'm left wondering if she knows something that I have lost track of.

Invitations

I am struck by the abundant opportunities I have to return to the moment. Every second invites to to notice where I am. 

Am I here now? 

Now I am.

Duck Lesson

Yesterday, I was going to write about Duck. I had heard the squeaky flying of Duck heading North. I could just barely make her out in the brightening morning light. I thought, though, that writing about her today would be dishonest, since I had seen her yesterday. As I sat this pondering this, she flew past once again, heading North.

She got me thinking about how true opportunities always return. My culture teaches me that opportunities are fleeting and that I have to grab them before they are gone. Duck reminds me that opportunities came back again and again until I recognize them, and understand the lesson. I wonder what I missed yesterday that will show up again today?

Cherry Burl

A Cherry wood burl showed up in the firewood this morning. Having been split, I could see the complexity Tree had created to deal with the stress she had experienced. I was struck by the beauty of Tree's response. Whether it was a virus or fungus or cut, Tree had created something wonderful as a result.

Tree got me thinking about how often I might miss the beauty of someone's response to a crisis. My culture teaches me to pay attention to the crisis, not our response. Yet the response is what manifests who what we hold dear. Tree makes a beautiful burl. What do I do?

Yet Position

There is an abundance of Bird calls this morning. As I listen, I realize they are all familiar, but I can only name a few. I have not taken the time to connect the Bird I hear with the ones I see. Is it something I will not do, or something I have yet to do? Taking up the “yet” position makes it a future possibility, rather than a past failure.

Owl Visit

Owl flew silently in front of me this morning. She flew South to North, across the pond, and out of site. For me, North is a reminder of care and love and support.

Owl reminds me that there is always abundant care and love and support available if I ask for it, and stay open to what I receive.

Recent Perception

I am struck by how cold it seems this morning, thirty degrees warmer than some mornings in the recent past. I think about how much my perception of what is real is linked so closely to my most recent experiences. 

Today, I will be thinking about how I might expand my perception to include more distant experiences. I wonder what effect that might have on my experience of now.

Un Familiar

Ice falls from Trees in an uneven cascade. The louder volleys from above grab my attention. It is as if I think there is someone there, shaking down the Snow. 

I see no one, but someone is there. It is time and temperature and gravity. It is change and transformation. 

How is it that I so often fail to recognize my constant companions?

7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor XX- Choices III

Ice Chime

The ice covered Trees chime as the Wind turns the cold stillness into music. When the Wind blows the Birds stop singing. Are they listening, too?

Squirrel Race

Three Squirrels ran single file down Pine tree, plowing through the Snow that was stuck to the tree trunk by last night's storm. They turned at the bottom and ran back up, then down again. On this second decent the lead Squirrel veered sharply Eastward, onto a branch. I noticed that the end of the branch hung alone in the air, not close to any other trees. I watched curiously, wondering what would happen when the Squirrels reached the end of the branch with nowhere else to go. What happened next stunned me.

When the lead Squirrel reached the end of the branch, she, without hesitation, flipped under the branch and ran, full speed and upside down, under the others and back to the main trunk. From there she ran down to ground. As I considered what I was seeing, and the pronouns I was assigning to the characters in the scene, it occurred to me that I didn't actually know if the lead Squirrel was female. Than I wondered how long it might take for me to become familiar enough with my Squirrel cousins to be able to discern their sex just by looking at them.

Right now in my life all Squirrels look alike, but I know that this is an illusion created by my lack of familiarity. I don't know Squirrels well enough. That's why I can't recognize their uniquenesses. My strangerness blends them all together into a single group of indistinguishable beings. Knowing this is an effect of my perception gets me wondering what else I am missing as I sit in this moment. Looking around, what can I not see because I have not taken the time to become more familiar with what is right in front of me?

Me Perspective

I know from school why the morning light appears blue. I know that that things I am looking at are not blue, they just appear that way because of how my eyes receive light. In this way, what I see is a reflection of me. Similarly, what I taste and touch, feel and hear are all reflections of my sensing systems, thoughts, expectations, and experiences.

Today, I plan to pay specific attention to how the outside world reflects me, and how my expectations form what I experience.

Quiet Perspective

I walked out the Eastern door and was immediately struck by the quiet. Yesterday's winds had died down leaving calm behind. I could hear Crow, Sparrow, and Chickadee in the Eastern and Southeastern woods calling out to the morning.

This gets me thinking about the interdependence of experience. My experience of the winds of yesterday contribute to my experience of the calm of today. The warmth of yesterday contributes to my experience of today as being cold. One experience positions me in relation to the next connecting everything in a web of perception. Had I not noticed the cold or the wind my experience of today would have been different.

I wonder how what I notice today will inform what I experience tomorrow?

Moon Set

The morning Moon shines in the West as it travels along its path, greeting the rising Sun in the East. In that moment I feel closely connected to the Moon; our close celestial companion. In that moment, it seems I am more connected to the Moon than the Sun. Moon and I travel together as we circle the Sun.

This gets me thinking about the subtle interdependencies I experience all the time. How caring and relying and giving and taking create balances in my life. Balances re-balance as life's needs change. Moon gets me thinking about what I need now and what I can give back. Thank you Moon for all you bring to my life.

Skinny Squirrel

As I sit this morning, I see Squirrel scurry up, stop, notice me, then continue on her way. She seems thinner than she was in the Fall, and I imagine it is because of the scarcity of food in Winter.

I am grateful for the bounty I have access to all year long, but am curious about the bounty of living that is available only to those who have to reclaim their existence every single day. Thank you Squirrel for reminding me of the varied possibilities for living, and that each offers its own gifts.

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Grateful

I hear Crow, Chickadee, airplane, and Sparrow. I see Heron Gull fly overhead. I feel the Sunlight warm on my face, and the Ice cold on my feet. My breath exhales large clouds of vapor into the cold morning air, and I am grateful for every moment I have to breath in the Air and listen to what is happening right here right now.

Snow Cave II

This morning is brighter, and I can see into the Snow cave. I can see that the sunlight glowing through the Snow illuminates the cave like an opaque skylight. I have to let go of my imaginings of Mouse and Vole scurrying though darkened corridors. It seems that, at least in the daylight, they travel through bright passage ways, and can probably see shadows of who might be waiting above.

My awareness of how Vole and Mouse live is also illuminated, as I let go of one thought and it is replaced by another. I wonder what other old thoughts I will replace today?