Waking Up

Ofy sat at the kitchen table gazing out over Light Point Pond, sipping her morning coffee it was the depths of the January winter’s silence. Wondering to herself she sighed– just how had she ever gotten this far? Sensing somehow she was in the throes of a major personal transformation and also knowing all her past steps and life events and choices had brought her to this exact moment, time and place.

The past four or five years were major transformational pieces she was not able to process or see close-up. Not until stepping away from them and sort of sitting outside herself was she actually able to review and see ‘just what had transpired’. Ofy knew in her heart she had always been living someone else’s life, by someone else’s rules. Always outside of her true self. She no longer seemed to care nor did it really matter what happened in her past, she stopped seeking answers to those epoch’s and different stages of her life and decided instead to look forward to a brighter future that she would now embrace as her own. She sensed she had learned many more lessons than she gave herself credit for, she also knew whatever she did not absorb correctly life would bring back around for her to try it all over again. This time; life would be by her rules & her responsibilities - finally releasing the sense and feeling that she somehow was responsible for the rest of the world or owed someone else something else. She owed Ofy her full and undivided attention henceforth.

Ofy felt lighter - but only just a little, she knew the unknown darkness that appeared before would soon fade and be followed by an infinite light of knowing, and believing, that all she ever dreamed of was truly possible and actually unfolding in every moment. This morning was the REAL realization that Ofy was finally waking up. She was READY.

Strings

The morning following the cold crisp night of those days when winter starts to lose its’ tight tethered grasp upon on Earth and spring begins its slow subtle journey Northward. Those warm days and frigid nights with temperatures swinging such vast differences they seem to clutch and thrust Earth into states of peril in between.

There was a hazy fog nestled over Light Point Pond as I ventured out for the daily woods walk. Evergreen trees shadowed with an almost bluish green hue of frost tipped needles. The stream ice had frozen over, only a very slight thin glaze but as if stopped in a moment of time when the temperatures must have snapped exactly right. It was still but had a motion like appearance on its surface resting silently awaiting the mornings sun and warmth to uncast it from its frozen state.

That was when I spotted them, the “strings”, strands of fine web like threads hanging all about from the tree branches. Where were the spiders that might have spun these? Who would have stretched these fine fingers of such simple symmetry from branch to branch? Were the trees themselves shedding tears of silk or perhaps the midnight fairies of another Earth celebrated last night and left shrouds of tinsel all about the only trace left behind of their midnight escapade.

I have no answer and I seek none either. I was blessed with “strings” on this crisp cold morning between seasons and know without question they are evidence of the ties that bind, the web of life and the fabric of oneness of all things on Earth.

Angels

My cockatiel died this afternoon after a brief illness which apparently he had actually had for a very long time and kept very well hidden from me. I had acquired him through a friend at work, her friend had suddenly died from heart failure and she had raised this bird from a hatchling for several years prior to my acquiring him.

I am more a dog or horse person and began with knowing nothing about birds, their general care and or maintenance. But I soon came to know him and his likes and dislike, he loved popcorn! He would learn whistling tunes from me and repeat them often and was a true light unto my quiet world often bursting into song and chorus in the middle of the day.

On the day of his passing as I was driving over to a friend’s house for consolation I remember seeing a vision of Angels around me. There was a ring of about 5 or 6 in a circle and they were ringing their hands and looking down upon me in this place of overwhelming pain and tears and loss. One of the Angels asked, “what seems to be the problem here?” Another said, “she has lost her beloved bird, he died a short while ago and she is very sad without him.” Another Angel very young and new to this sort of thing said, “but he is right here, and he is just fine. Doesn’t she now that he is O.K. here with us?” The eldest Angel looked at her and said she cannot see that right now, for these humans don’t have Angel sight yet. But she will know very soon that her bird has not gone anywhere and is with her always as all things are connected. Her pain will ease and a new light will enter her heart where and old light left. And she will be more whole again very soon. And she will always hear his song no matter where she travels she will carry his song in her heart – always

.

Life In Flight

I’m learning only just now that life is a river of ever fleeting moments cascading past us only to be seen or felt by stopping and listening to its silent calls. I stopped long enough yesterday on the Tamarack path to see I was surrounded by a half dozen chick-a-dees. They were chirping and flitting about on the apple branches just a few feet away from me. Joyfully singing their songs of praise to the light of God. I could have reached out and touched them they were so close.

Today I was greeted by a sparrow. I heard the chirp and glanced above my head. She landed on a branch for a moment then flew over to the neighboring tree. In flight she stopped and hovered for a second or two. A sight I’ve only seen one other time last year from a crow. In mid air she stopped and paused fluttering her wings as if it was an awkward movement to stop in mid-flight. Did she stop to signal me or perhaps it was a mating ritual? I know not the answer. Only that I will never forget the sight of the paused fluttering in mid air, much like a dog shaking off after a swim in the water and all the droplets fly away in their own pattern of life and flight.

In these silent encounters and brief moments a soul becomes one with Nature and finds itself new energies and refreshing breath to carry onward into the glory of that which is called life.

Do not wait too long to stop and listen to the fluttering of a birds wings or watch the drop of dew as it falls off the tip of the pine needle. Leaving its old home and moving on to a new place in the sun. Both the needle and the drop of water are forever changed for the brief exchange of time together. And the watcher too is changed for spying the encounter and remembering:

Life is in the moment, only this one single moment exists or matters or has any consequences at all.

Spring Love

He spotted her from across the open meadow through the small hedgerow of evergreen trees and hardwoods. She lay so still and so perfect, silent in her deep solace of beauty and grace. He galloped across the field leaping over old dried tufts of orchard grass around large piles of field stone under the branches and over the dead logs to come upon her and stop, INSTANTLY! For one brief moment he stood in awe of her majestic beauty, breathless with his heart racing to a new rhythm and pulsing rapidly to a new beat. Then silent as the cat that might pounce on the mouse it has stalked all day he leapt forward and in one motionless swoop he landed upon her and grabbed her in his arms. Inhaling her essence and swallowing all of her body whole becoming intoxicated and entrapped in her invisible snare.

They melded into one form each becoming the other. Intertwined as one being dancing, swirling and twirling around clasped so tightly one could not tell they were two separate entities. Effortlessly waltzing in one direction then turning to another, around, up, down, back and forth. He would lead then she would lead each never missing a step. That perfect dance of pure love and of pure joy.

He could not remember how long it had been since last being with her, he only knew he was mesmerized and entranced and would forever stay beside her, in her, with her and her with him in all their perfect grace and charm. Until the next winter’s cold would cover her over with its protective shield of ice and close her off from the rest of the world. He would then begin that endless search for her beauty, her grace, that certain ecstasy which comes once again with the warm spring thaw that exposes her perfect soul allowing that spring love and that perfect dance of the wind and the water.

Three Seasons

The sun began peeking her lazy head up over the east edge of Light Point Pond. Peering slowly she knows there is no need to rush about. No calisthenics to perform, no morning ritual to run through. Stretch and slowly rise - she casts her light upon the Earth. Her warmth and love emanate into the pores and cells of everything she touches. All are joyous to be in her company.

A few scattered clouds begin to move in bringing a soft gentle rain. At first appearing as a fine mist then transforming to a heavy dense fog lingering in the air. Turning to tiny raindrops which soon become a downpour of water working feverishly to melt the snow and cold clutches of the winter season. The drops sound heavy upon the icy covered snow as if falling hard upon a tin roof.

Swiftly the rain has transformed to large puffy tuffs of snowflakes. Silently falling they are greeted by a gentle breeze which picks them up and dances briefly with them. Up, up and around and down. They demonstrate a show of faith as they are cast about in mid-air much like trapeze artists and when they come down they land so silently and gently no bones are ever broken. They smother the pre-existing winter scene with a fresh pristine cloak of white.

Three seasons I have just experienced while drinking my morning coffee. I watched a summer’s sun rise begin to warm the day subtly turn to a soft spring rain removing another layer of winters clothing only to return back again to snowfall. All in a very short course of time, Nature constantly changes her banquet of weather offering a wide variety of delights to those who frequent her daily buffets.

Nature's Sounds

It’s so simple; you learned it in first grade while reading stories about Dick and Jane.

Stop-Look-Listen.

That is all that’s required to grasp a moment in Nature and hear her subtle story. She speaks in soft whispers of her quiet journey as she wanders homeward.

It wasn’t an unusually cold morning not a frigid snap or anything like that when I happened upon the sounds of ‘Making Ice’. The creek was flowing and creating a small pool of foam in its center closing in around itself. As I stood and gazed at the foam collecting and forming I became aware of another subtler sound; pop, snap, sizzle, crack, pop, snap, sizzle, crack. Almost like someone cooking something on a very hot griddle-sizzling hot! One needed to be very quiet as it was being overshadowed by the normal sound of the water flowing. Water turning to ice, snapping, crackling, I wonder if it’s painful? or maybe just the joyous sound of transformation.

A few days later I paused spotting the freshly pecked holes of the Pileated Woodpecker who has ravaged about a half dozen trees around Light Point Pond. His line of travel is as obvious as his feeding grounds and the chips of pine wood scattered and littered surrounding the tree trunks. Again as I quieted myself I heard the caw of crows flying in from the south, caw, caw, deep guttural caws. Two flying overhead so low I could hear their wings flapping, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. One, as if he knew I was there below appeared to stop in flight for just an instant and generated a single WHOOOOSH and then kept going onward to his next feeding grounds.
What was the crows’ message? Did he know I was there below?

Stop-Look-Listen, it’s happening all around you all the time.