Rain

It is an other rainy day in New England. I could remind myself of all the platitudes about what spring rain brings and how the clouds allow the water to recharge the aquifers, but I have a different idea. Rather then try to convince myself I am happy about the rain, I can work on my acceptance practice. 

Accepting the rain as what is doesn't require me thinking I am happy about it. I simply accept that rain is what is happening right now. It is something I can't control, and I can recognize it as such. If I don't, I can't be where I am right here, right now. 

Today, I am working on accepting what is, so I can be where I am. Right here. Right now.

Mayfly

This morning there was a Mayfly resting on one of the screens in the screen house. The light shone faintly through its wings. A Mayfly leg is as thin as a strand of hair, and it seems implausible that something so fine can endure, but it does. It got me thinking about the specific balance between air pressure and mater that makes it possible for anything to exist. 

The scientific vocabulary now includes the idea that a unit of life is better understood as a network, rather than an individual. I would extend this idea and say that a network is better understood as a relationship between things. In saying this, am not so much referring to the “things” but the “between” that is the relationship. 

For me, existence is only in this moment and in the space between. Mayfly reminds me of the culmination of perfection that is this moment and this space in between, this singular unit of life.

Questions

I love asking questions. Not any questions, though. I love to ask questions that illuminate people's purposes, passions, and callings. The Phoebes are nesting under the peak of the Eastern end of the cabin. I can watch them flying in and out of their nest from our bedroom window. This morning I opened my eyes and saw one hover briefly outside the window before flying to the nest. I wanted to ask the bird why it stopped to hover. Then it occurred to me that if I wanted to know, I could sit and watch them for a while. It would eventually become clear. That's the thing about birds and such. If you want to know why they do what they do, all you have to do is watch. Their intentions are manifest in what they do. These Phoebes are obviously committed to feeding their babies. I don't have to ask them. They are telling me by doing what they do. It strikes me that there is a deep honesty in this. The Phoebes are doing what matters to them. They are living their purposes in their actions. In the moments of their lives they embody what they are committed to. 

I am committed to illuminating the unique importance of every person by asking questions that manifest their purpose for being. The Phoebes remind me that my commitment should be obvious enough for someone watching me to understand what it is.

Bird Song

This morning, as I listened to the bird song, it occurred to me that bird song is honest. Then I wondered if the birds were telling the truth. Then it occurred to me that honesty and truth are not the same thing. Honesty asks that I do something. Truth asks that I know something. Perhaps the intersection of doing and knowing is far more simple with Bird. I hear the essence of Bird when they sing. Today I will strive to be honest. If there is truth on that, all the better.

Circles

Early this morning the Cat circled the room twice before settling down on our bed for a nap. The Dog turned on her cushion several time before finding the perfect orientation to lay down and go back to sleep. Even in the squareness of the cabin, they find circles. They reminded me that circles are everywhere. In the cycles of the seasons, the seasons of life, the orbits of the planets, circles dominate our existence and remind me that everything is connected. 

In the June Scientific American magazine I read that “the unit of life may not be an individual, but a network.” I am grateful for the privilege of being a part of everything including the Cat's circle and the Dog's cushion.

Hard Work

This morning it is raining. The phoebes have to work hard. They are fly catchers. That means they catch bugs on the wing. When it rains, most of the bugs take cover, and wait for the rain to subside. But the Phoebe babies cant wait. They need to eat. So their parents work harder.

I watch and remember that sometimes I have to work harder to get past my thoughts. So the Phoebe parents fly out into the rain, and the tel tail flip in the air that happens when they catch something shows me that that babies will be fed. And I come back to now.

As I sat on the deck this morning, I watched what the Phoebes were doing. This brought me back to what I was doing. I was sitting. I came back to my senses; the weight of my body on the deck, the breeze on my skin, the color of the trees, my breath. Then I heard the high squeak of the baby Phoebes, as their parents returned to the nest with food.