7 Billion Geniuses-The Music Metaphor-Part IV-Practice

Gratitude

At times like this, I am struck by how vigilant I have to be of my own tendency to take things for granted. From the electricity that runs the alarm clock that wakes me to the fresh air I breath in as I turn off the noise to the floor that greets my feet as I get out of the warm comfortable bed in which I sleep. And all that transpires in the first moments of my day.

Today, I will be doing my best to pay attention to the hundreds of times I am gifted with abundance, and be grateful.

Falling Leaves

Leaves fall and remind me that everything is always in motion. They glide to the Earth were they become soil. Soil becomes Trees and the cycle continues.

Today, I am remembering that I am part of this cycle. I, too, am always in motion. What will I become?

Chipmunk

As I approached the Mint patch, I saw someone scurry into the underbrush. Waiting for a moment, I saw Chipmunk emerge from the other side. She then ran across a patch of grass, stopped and turned to look back at me. Chipmunk was not panting and did not seem upset by our close encounter, she simply moved to a safe distance and stopped, to look back.

This got me thinking about the assumptions I make about my creature cousins and the prey/predator mythology that is so much a part of my culture. Does Chipmunk see me as a threat or a danger or as a participant in an interaction that she wants to engage in from a distance? Threats are to be eliminated and dangers are to be avoided, but Chipmunk doesn't seem to live her life doing either of these things. She does not eliminate threats by undermining my life, nor does she avoid danger by living far from me. She lives close to me, and our lives intersect because of our similarities. She was looking for some Mint this morning at the same time I was.

I know that she stopped at a distance that I could not cover quickly and looked back at me. But why?

Today, I will be holding onto the idea that I don't actually know the answer to that question. I will also be declining the invitation to think that I do.

Squirrel Lesson IV

This morning, as I came out the Eastern door, Squirrel began an alarm call. It was the longer kaw call with a wavy tail flicker. She started from across the lawn, than ran closer to me. As she sat on top of the woodpile and kawed at me, I was struck by her. There she sat, not five feet from, letting me know she knew I was there. Her kaws kept calling my attention to her, demanding my focus. After a bit, she ran off the woodpile and over to a White Pine stump, where she continued her calls.

Squirrel's actions remind me of bravery. Her willingness to get so close to me gets me thinking about what it takes for me to do things I am afraid to do. I will remember Squirrel when I am facing a challenge, and concerned about what might happen.

Orion Rising

This morning, I saw Orin in the Southern sky. This usually means cooler weather. The warmth of the dark morning got me thinking about how there is no firm connection between Orin rising and cooler temperatures. This got me thinking about how even seeing Orion as a particular collection of stars is similarly not a firm experience. I see Orin because of where I am in the Cosmos. Slowly the Sun rises and Orin begins to disappear.

Today, I will be paying close attention to my ideas about reality and how many of them are linked solely to where I stand. I will be paying attention to the importance of other people's experiences and perspectives and how they can enrich mine.

Maple Tree Scars

It's wood splitting time here at the cabin which means that a part of every week will be devoted to splitting and stacking this years burning wood. As I work through the pile, I have noticed something about one of the trees. As the rings grew out every years, they never made a complete circle. Maple tree must have been scarred in some way. The vertical scar continued to be incorporated into Maple tree as she grew. No more that a sixteenth of an inch wide, I would not have noticed it if I looked at the tree, but now that I have cut the tree into sections it is quite obvious. The scar runs almost completely to the center of the tree. It must have been injured when it was quite young. Even with such a deep scar, one almost as old as the tree itself, she still grew into a tall beautiful Maple, as majestic as any on the land.

This gets me thinking about my own scars. My culture teaches me that scars are something to hide, something that is debilitating, something that must be healed if we are to survive. Maple tree teaches me that a scar is something that can be grown with, something that is descriptive of the past, but not something that has to limit the future. I realize that Maple tree, without the scar would be different, but not better.

Today, I will live like Maple tree. I will accept my scars, recognize that they have changed me, but stay curious about the ways in which I have been changed. I will decline the cultural invitations that describe scars as limiting or as problems that need to be solved. I will remember that me without the scars would be different, not better.