Sun Attitude

The Sun has moved from Southeast to East to Northeast by this point in the Spring. This position means the Sun arcs higher in the Sky, making the days longer. The coolness of the last couple weeks reminds me that the position of the Sun in the Sky is only part of what makes the days warm. Air currents, Clouds, Water temperature, and a number of other processes factor in as well. This remind me that there are also a number of components that combine to make a good day for me. They include how I sleep, what I eat, what I choose to do with my time, and my attitude. If I accept the effects of the things that are outside of my control, and do my best with the things that are, my day can be as enriching as Springtime flowers.

Sunrise

Is the beauty of the Sunrise in it's description? 

What if instead of saying, “The sunrise is beautiful,” I ask, “Why is the Sunrise beautiful to me?”

Bird Symphony

We know that birds warn each other. An alarm call from a Robin is not ignored by Jay. But is it possible that Birds sing to each other as well? As I listened to the chorus this morning, it occurred to me that I might not be the only person enjoying how the songs blended together and complemented each other. My culture has invited me to think that Bird song is only about competition to mate, and warnings of danger, but what if it is also about creating a symphony of complex interwoven music?

Wasp Wisdom

This is the time of year when we start to see Paper Wasps around the cabin. When I see them, I know it's time to start looking around in the nooks and crannies for new nests. When I find one of the nests it's usually only made up of two or three cells with a pair of Wasps in attendance. I flick it off of whatever it is attached to, and it gently drops to the ground. The attending Wasps will follow it down, inspect it for a while, return to the spot where it was anchored, inspect that, then fly off to find a new place to start again. They do all this while I stand and watch. The Wasps don't attack me or buzz around in a rage or start to rebuild where they left off, they just leave. I am struck by the Wisdom of Wasp. Attacking me would serve no purpose. The nest is gone and stinging me would not bring it back. Risking their lives for this purpose would only make it possible that they would die and not be able to rebuild. That would mean that they could not create more Wasps. If they were to start to rebuild in the same spot I would just remove their nest again. That would be a waste of their time, and it would be foolish to build a home where one has already been destroyed. Going into a rage is simply exhausting. They need their energy to build a home for their family. So they fly away to start in a place that better serves the needs of the young ones still to come. I have much to learn from Paper Wasp.

Cosmos

As I sit outside this morning, the Spring songs are in full voice. I hear Rain, Peepers, Gulls, Crows, and so many Birds I can't distinguish which is which. As I listen and watch, I wonder about my part in the scene. Then it occurs to me that the cool Air on my skin is the warmth of my skin to the Wind. When I see the Birds flying past, they also see me. In fact, to everyone other than me, I am obviously a part of the scene. From this point of view, I am integrated into it, not isolated from it. I will hold this perspective as a reminder of the roll I play in this great unfolding Cosmos.

Bug's Return

I am excited to see that the Bugs have returned. I saw two Mosquitoes this morning, and I know that there are many more beyond my vision. They are a vital part of the chain of food that feeds all of my creature cousins. The return of the Bugs reminds me of the plumes of Moths we would see around the cabin during the warm snaps we had this past Winter. What was implied but not necessarily clear in the appearance of the Moths of Winter was the absence of Frogs and Turtles and the Spring Birds that rely on these plumes to survive. The Moths were born without predators, and gathered in their thousands to die as soon as the cold returned. This gets me thinking about what else is absent but implicit in the scene I see when I look out from the cabin and into the Woods.

Deer Possibilities

There were young Deer with Mother down by the pond this morning. The rising Sun, still low in the East made their outlines glow like the halo of the sun during an eclipse. My culture teaches me that the young symbolize Hope. They represent possibilities, and the chance of a better future. What is implied but unstated in this sentiment is the idea that our present needs to be changed. How did we come to this place where today is always the beginning if a better tomorrow? I am curious about the effects this ideas has on my experience of today. The Deer wonder off deeper into the Woods, and I'm pretty sure the Mother Deer is not thinking, “I hope these young ones do a better job than I did.”

Woods Words

Bird calls are the words of the woods. They are the most obvious expression of the forest for me because I love to listen. The calls most clearly convey who's there and where they are, but they also remind me that the forest is alive, growing, and changing every second, jut like me. I am grateful to have such a peer to travel with.

Choose

When worry or doubt enter my thoughts, I find that focusing on the choices I have to make diminishes their power. Transforming thoughts about what might happen or what could happen into ideas about what I am choosing to do right here right now, move doubt and worry move into the background.

Who is "I"

When I'm not laughing, I'm not letting my Spirit laugh. When I'm not dancing, I'm not letting my Spirit dance. When I'm not crying, I'm not letting my Spirit cry. When I'm not shouting, I'm not letting my Spirit shout. When I'm not breathing, I'm not letting my Spirit breathe. Why do I hold my Spirit back? Who is “I?” “I,” is the sum of all the cultural invitations that try to convince me what I should or shouldn't be, what I should or shouldn't do. I tries to protect me from the consequences of stepping outside the box, and doing the unexpected. I is the protective parent. I will never stop caring. I may never stop worrying. Thank you I for all you have done for me. Let me learn to recognize and cherish the Love in your protective voice, but only from a distance.

This Body, This Moment

As I sit this morning, the Air I exhale flows from me onto another purpose. The sunlight that reflects off of my body bounces onto some other surface, warming it as well. I am participating in a constant cosmic process of change. This gets me thinking about how important it is for me to be paying attention to what it is like for me to be in this body right here, right now. The change I participate in reminds that what I will experience tomorrow or what I experienced yesterday is not part of my experience of right now, but if I pay it attention it can effect my experience in the moment. Today, I choose to ask myself, “What is it like to be in the body in the moment right here right now?” Right now, it is good.

Woodpecker Lesson

When Woodpecker pecks and it is loud and resounds across the forest, he is not looking for breakfast, he is looking for a mate. The loud pecking is his song. It says, “Here I am. This is me.” That is what I heard East of the cabin this morning. His song was loud and clear. Woodpecker got me thinking about how much I love to sing, and how long it took me to just stand up and do it. Does Woodpecker hold back? Does he wonder about how he sounds? Did he wait for the right time to really put it out there before he started singing this morning? Did he wondering about what others might think? I don't know, but I sure did. Even now, there are times when I find myself holding back and wondering what people will think, allowing that thought to keep me from letting lose. When will it be time for me to fully let lose, and who gets to decide? What would Woodpecker do?

Special Bird

This morning the dog that lives with us spooked Mourning Dove who was hanging out in the garden just South of the cabin. I didn't pay much attention. I see a lot of Morning Dove and hear her call often. This got me thinking about how I can so easily take her for granted. Mourning Dove is a beautiful bird with a beautiful call. How did she come to no longer be special in my experience? This gets me thinking about Crow, and Robin, and Seagull. These are all familiar birds that I get to see most every day, but it is important that their regular presence in my life not diminish my recognition of them as special and my gratitude for the gifts they bring me. Today, I will be paying attention to times when I take people or things or experiences for granted.

Faith

The Vernal Pool has returned just Northeast of the cabin. This means that the creature cousins that rely on it's waters can begin their life cycle. Some creatures migrate back to it, but some are left there by their parents the previous Fall. Knowing where the pools appear, wise parents leave their progeny to be nurtured by the water in the Spring, if the pools return.

This gets me thinking about what Faith is for me. Like a parent leaving an egg in an area where the water required to create a new life might appear, Faith is about possibilities, not certainties. The parents can choose to leave their eggs. What happens next is out of their control. I take action and have Faith that whatever happens next will create further possibilities. The waters have returned, the cycle has begun. What happens next is yet to be known.

Pondering Bird

I entered the screen house this morning and imitatively heard something hit one of the screen panel on the North end of the house. It was a small Bird. “How did you get in here?” I asked. Getting no answer, I propped the door open with the morning's snow and ice, and set about to coax Bird back outside. Eventually Bird found the open door, flew through it and was gone. Today, I will ponder all that I learned from this intersection of Bird's path and mine.

Owl Lesson

The first thing I heard this morning when I walked out the Eastern door was Bluejay's alarm calls. After a bit, Owl flew North through Pinegrove, and away from Bluejay's cries. Bluejay continued to call for a short while then stopped. The danger was gone.

Then it occurred to me that a lot of the time in Bluejay's life, Owl is not around. This got me thinking about how, most of the time in my life, I am not in danger, and by danger I mean that my life is really at risk. Most of the time I am in a place where I don't have to worry.

My culture teaches me something different. My culture invites me to always be vigilant for some impending danger, but as I think about it now, that danger rarely if ever materializes.

Bluejay sends out an alarm call when Owl is close by, and stops as soon as Owl is gone. I wonder what my life would be like if the only time I worried about what might happen next was when “Owl” was hovering overhead.

Temporary Turtle

Turtles have appeared in the pond. They rest on a Tree that fell into the water several years ago. They line up like a train, basking in whatever Sun makes it through the clouds of early Spring. Eventually, the Turtles move on to larger bodies of water as the heat of Summer dries up the Water in the pond. Anticipating this, gets me thinking about impermanence. The Turtles will not stay all Summer. We can see them now, but perhaps tomorrow they will be gone. Today, I will be paying attention to what is in my life today, in appreciation of an unknowable tomorrow.

Spring Songs

There are times during the Winter, here at the cabin when it is silent outside. The wind is just so that the only sound you hear is the sound of your own breath. This morning it is clear that the silence is over. Peepers and Wood frogs, Turkeys, Crow, Phoebe, Cedar Waxwing, Chickadee, Woodpecker, Squirrel, all combine to sing their songs. Today, I am grateful for their songs.

Phoebe's Return

The Phoebes have returned. I hear the familiar call as I sit outside, and I wonder if they include me in their memories of this place. We see each other all Spring and into Summer as we go about living our lives, but I wonder if they would notice that I was not here if they returned and I was not here?

Ripples

The Ice has now melted completely from the pond North of the cabin. As a result, when the Ducks splash down water ripples out in all directions. The rippling water reminds me that the effects of my actions also ripple out in all directions. My culture suggests that every action has an effect. The Pond reminds me that actions have many effects that ripple out in all directions. We do not live in straight lines, but in circles that intersect with other circles. These circles create a vastness of possibilities that far exceeds what would be made possible by straight lines. Today I will be staying available to these possibilities and looking for the ripples that intersect with my life.

I am grateful today for the gift of Air, and my ability to breath it in.

Morning Moon

The quarter Moon in the Sky this morning will be with us all day long. As I ponder this, I remember that the Moon is the same Moon for everyone, and there for all of us to enjoy. The Moon favors no person, and no land, and reminds me of a perspective without boarders. I will ponder this as I travel with Moon today.

Sun Blind

In a dream, I sat facing East. I held my hand up to shield my eyes from the rising Sun and complained silently that I could not see the birds in the Tree in front of me. Then I realized that by centering myself in relation to the Sun, all I was noticing was what I couldn't see. Had I turned around, I would have been able to see all that was illuminated by the Sun, but instead I sat blinded by my limited perspective.

The Vale

As I sit this morning, the cold Air reminds me of Winter, but as it does, I am struck by the importance of being present to the fact that this is Spring. I begin paying attention to how powerfully the past can distract me from the uniqueness of the moment. As this happens I work to lift the vale of expectations to see the world around me as it is; ever changing, ever unique, ever new. I watch as the vale lifts and drops, lifts and drops again.

Pace

This morning I had to surrender my routine over to the invitations of structures outside of my control. After doing so, I am aware of returning to a pace that is of my choosing. I am paying attention to the challenges of slowing back down to my preferred pace, and noting the difference between the two. I am grateful for the luxury of being able to most often set my own pace, and am aware that this is a privilege.

Dancing Trees

I watch the forty five foot Trees in Pine Grove dance in the strong winds this morning, and am reminded just how flexible they are. I often see their branches waving, but in this kind of wind I can really see just how much even their trunks can bend without breaking. I am reminded of how often I underestimate my own ability to get through stressful times. My branches and truck can take more than I think, and I am grateful for the reminder. Trees remind me also that even the difficult times contain beauty.

Spring Din

As Spring proceeds, there are so any Bird and Frog songs happening that they seem to be indistinguishable. This gets me thinking about how some days I can be invited in so many directions that I can lose track of the one in which I am going. That's when I work to slow down, and pay attention. As I took this idea up this morning, I was eventually able to discern the individual songs from the din.

Fear

Sometimes, here at the cabin, Birds fly inside. They usually fly in through an open sliding door. I am always struck by how hard it is for them to find that the slider is still open and available for them to fly through, back out to the open Air. If I were the Bird, I imagine I would be so distracted by the fear of being trapped, that I would miss the open door that is right in front of me.

Sit and Wait

As I sat outside this morning it seemed like every moment brought a new sound or sight. It began with Ducks flying overhead, then songbirds in the woods, then tree frogs down by the Pond. One of my teachers taught me that the best way to see and hear cool stuff outside is to sit down, be quiet, and wait.

This gets me thinking about how my culture invites me to chase after what I want. My experience has taught me that sometimes in the chasing I miss what is right in front of me, waiting for me to just stop and pay attention.

When am I?

This morning my wife mentioned the Birds she saw yesterday, and the Dog that lives with us immediately ran to the window to see them. This gets me thinking about how language can invite me out of the moment I am in to join with others in their experiences of the past. I am left wondering if there is a way for me to step into these experiences while having one foot firmly planted int the current moment.