The Moonbeam and the Oak

The midnight moon cast a beam of light downward upon the back of the small oak tree whose few remaining leaves seemed to tremble and quake in its light. They appeared to be hanging on long past the time of shedding as all the other trees had cast their summer coats months ago. Only the evergreen trees had any sheath of warmth protecting their branches. Prior snowfalls had left behind tufts and arches of snow clutching and clinging to the bare branches – they too not wishing to let go of the comfort and protection of the trees.

As breezes past over them carrying new energies and waves of love the leather backed leaves rustled and sounded like a soft summer rainfall echoing in the depths of the winter season. The shadow cast from the moonlight through the oak formed an almost life size snowflake in the shape of the oak tree spanning across the back of the glittering blanket of snow which covered the ground below. On that cold - frigid night there appeared a peaceful sight and the warmth of quiet serenity with everyone – the leaves, the snow, and the shadows - all resting in the protection of the moonbeam and the oak.

Tiny Ripples

The water tumbled down-stream, meandering along over stones and plant life free falling into Light Point Pond creating an infinite array of tiny symmetric ripples radiating outward across to the other side.

One tiny ripple paused and looked back as it rolled over the back of a large flat stone. “Hello, I’m a tiny ripple.” The stone replied, “Yes, I know you are a tiny ripple. And great will be your journey, far and wide even farther than you can begin to imagine. It will take but a moment’s breathe this journey of yours and you will do many great things for you carry LOVE, the essence of life wherever you travel. Go along now little one.”

The ripple murmured along and came upon a large green frog. “Hello green frog, I’m a tiny ripple.” The frog replied, “Yes, I know and I am grateful to know you. You deliver cool splashes of water across my back while I bask in the hot summer’s sun. Thank you, I love you.”

The tiny ripple flowed along and came upon a large water snake lazing in the cool swamp grasses. “Hello snake, I’m a tiny ripple.” The snake replied, “yes and you bring bugs and insects along with you that I might feast on their delicacy. Thank you, I love you.”

The tiny ripple kept on its journey and soon came upon a host of water lilies laughing and giggling in the summer breeze. “Hello lilies, I’m a tiny ripple.” The lilies giggled some more and said, “yes, we know. You tickle our feet and tussle our reeds and bend us over that we might gather fresh water in our mouths. Thank you, we love you.”

Soon the tiny ripple came to the edge of the pond and a great water fall. It began to shake and tremble and was frightened. The tiny rippled spoke to the waterfall, “hello waterfall, I’m a tiny ripple and I am afraid to fall.” The waterfall smiled and gently took the tiny ripple in its hands and said, “There is nothing to be afraid of. You are always surrounded by an infinite array of other ripples just like you. And they love you very much; you are always safe wherever you are. Your journey is only just beginning, for you have much love to carry out over many seas and oceans far and wide. And you shall travel lightly and quickly and bring the message of love to all you meet along the way. Remember you are an endless ripple in an endless sea soon to become a great wave carrying LOVE, life’s essence to all that you touch. Know you are never alone and always loved tiny ripple, for it is so.”

The waterfall then placed the tiny ripple down at the bottom of the falls and the ripple flowed on down the stream out to the sea where it would travel and become a great wave.

Tamarack Tears

October brought a light coverlet of snow early that first year at Light Point Pond. I was circling the perimeter discovering new found territories and learning the sights and sounds of the encompassing landscape. As I came upon a small grove of Tamarack trees I was stopped in my tracks by the striking sight of the shedding trees. Dropping their needles in a haste and a frenzy much like a small child rushing home already late for his Sunday dinner.

Shedding their prior summer’s coat of growth the air was so full of tiny golden brown needles it choked out any deeper view of the trees above and behind. They carpeted the ground and recent snowfall, building their own fortress and blanket of warmth as if trying to protect their trunks and roots from the soon to come deep winter frosts.

It appeared as if they were crying silent tears. Not so much tears of pain or discomfort. More a joyful falling, letting go. Accepting as a part of the cycle of nature to shed and release this year’s lessons of growth and prepare for winters rest only to grow and shed new lessons yet again next year.

I never came upon this particular sight again the bold contrast of white and gold. Snows either came too late or didn’t stay around long enough to be blanketed by the tiny tears. This morning as I circled the perimeter I was once again greeted by the shedding trees. Dropping their few remaining needles desperately falling ahead of the soon to come snowfalls. Falling to the ground louder than snowfall but quieter than raindrops laying their annual blanket, an array of golden, brown, and yellow needles, they will always remind of Tamarack tears.

Brunch:

Chomp, crunch, swallow; chomp, crunch, swallow; chomp, crunch, swallow, Plew-spit out a wing tip! Chomp, crunch, swallow; chomp, crunch, swallow; plew-spit out another wing tip. Chomp, crunch, swallow; chomp, crunch, swallow and one more swallow.

It was a sunny hot July day. The temperature was already rising to 95 degrees and it was only 11:00A.M. The humidity beginning to increase and thicken the air making breathing seem difficult. I was doing stone work on the end of the overflow stream that feeds Light Point Pond when I stopped to take a short break. Stomping the shovel into the ground I paused. Gazing over the pond I thought I need a drink of water. Just as I was about to move towards the wheelbarrow to get a drink a Comet Darner flew by and landed on the top of the shovel handle. Startled and a bit stunned I looked at it in awe and disbelief. In an instant I thought, “I’ve got to get the camera and take a picture of this, no one will ever believe me.” But I also knew any movement or sound louder than breathing would surely scare this magnificent creature away and dissolve this miraculous engagement instantly and permanently. I froze in my stance and watched from three feet away in silence and amazement.

Perched on top of the shovel handle, his personal table top, the darner began devouring a deer fly. Head first! The fly while being slightly smaller than the two-three inch darner was still more than a mouthful so to say! I wonder how he caught it? In flight by surprise no doubt. And does he know there is no nutrition in the wings? Spitting them out as if to say I don’t need the roughage? Consuming only the body cavity, delicately and matter-of-factly with a chomp, a crunch and a swallow. And then, all gone!

Struggles and Flow

The neighbors’ pond overflows and runs under the road along the south perimeter and into LightPointPond. This then flows another several hundred feet into Blacksmith Creek. Always water but at different points along the way a slightly different water or form continually moving to its final resting place.

There is a small divide in the creek formed by a patch of land and a few saplings toppled over during previous spring floods. On the near side the water is funneled into a small channel by the tree trunks. It seems to be pushing and forcing its way downstream. Struggling against the imposing obstacles that alter and misdirect its path it has a course savage look and sound and fury as if to say out of my way I have places to get to now and in a hurry and at any cost. It does not appear to be happy water.

The opposite side forms more a quiet pool or eddy of water. Silent and subtle it too is blocked by a single large tree trunk which appears to hold it back. This water seems more content to stop and rest along the trunk for a spell. It gathers up a bit of strength and courage and then lolls and slumps gently over the trunk continuing its journey downstream toward home. Unflinching by the opposing obstacles it flows in no hurry and without struggle.

The same waters of the same streams heading to ultimately the same place. One side struggles and one side flows. Not necessarily paths of least resistance more a choice of not resisting what lies in the paths?

We are all the same too. Perhaps at different points in our journey we appear with subtle or sometimes with gross differences in our form. Under the surface we are however all the same. All journeying to the same final resting place - all going home. Some of us struggle and some of us flow.

Kundalini Fog

Light Point Pond is about one year old in present (human) standards of lifetimes. It only struck me a few days ago that she is much older - perhaps millions of years old and has incarnated only just recently through me. I am to be receptive of her lessons and convey her message of healing, joy and love. She presents magnificent masses of fog on many mornings. They rise like gentle sheets or waves of wet mist. Wafting upwards towards the skies swirling almost dancing to a song all their own. She offers to the skies the gift of her essence and shares a piece of her soul to anyone watching or listening.

On this particular morning the fog had a new look. Or perhaps I had a new sight of vision as the fog rising was no longer sheet like but more spiraling finger-like in a pattern of her own kundalini rising to meet her skyward Gods. She was shedding her evening coat preparing to greet the morning and the day with a fresh new and cleaned face.

Watching one could see the tubular spirals climb upon one another lifting-stretching reaching upward as if it were a race to see which band would get there first. Beneath the waters laughed and played as the fog pulled away seeking to become one with the air above and to tear itself from the wet bonds that held so tightly below. No longer pulled down by gravity and the weight of its own water particles it ascends to become a spirit of the air and rise and move onward to another life form.

This pond shall teach me of changing life forms as in nature all forms are so temporary and transient. It is the only way. All death is a new life and all new life is but a death of some kind. And so cyclical and so necessary to perpetuate new ideas and cast them into infinity.

I wait in silence and gratitude for her to speak to me. That I may come to know of her wisdom and heal and offer her teachings to others that they too may heal and become whole.

Light Point Pond - A Place of Healing

The beginning;
It began as a ‘thought’ a ‘dream’ just an ‘idea’ that someday I would put a pond on the SouthEast end of the backyard in the wet area where no one ever goes. The summer of 2007 was particularly dry and the opportunity was right and so the ‘dream’ became a reality.
Thus began the excavation of a small pear shaped pond in my backyard. I walked the perimeter and flagged the surrounding hedge rows to guide the excavating crew. It seemed such a small area in the beginning which after seven days turned into more of a lake as long as a football field and half again as wide. Three feet deep on the shallow end expanding to fifteen feet on the deep end. The shape became more a combination of a light bulb and or the top half of an exclamation point. Hence the name decided upon was Light Point Pond.
So this is Light Point Pond. A Nature Sanctuary, a place of healing, a gift of Love to all who come.

I hadn’t realized just how devastating and damaging this project could be. When it was finished I looked at it and felt sick inside for a moment at the massive hole and scar created there on the surface of the Earth. Ouch! Would the Nature Gods ever forgive me for such a mess and for doing such a hurtful thing? My intentions were good, create an area for wildlife and mankind to rest and compose their troubles spirits. Still, I somehow could feel an internal pain at the sight of the pit. And how in a few brief days man could destroy what took so many years to create and evolve. The Nature Gods must have been pleased after all, for in a matter of 60 days the pond filled with the fall rains and underground springs. Sealing over the ugly spot of destruction and beginning the creation of a beautiful place in nature for all creatures that abound near-by.
The following are stories from Light Point Pond as I wander around the woods and water or just sit and rest near-by.

Nature offers its beauty and wisdom in brief moments of silence and in the scenes of life unfolding all around. In that single moment a soul is healed from these offerings of love. May you too be healed by a brief stop here, bless you and thank-you for your visit.

First mishap:
The pond filled in 60 days as I mentioned September 25th to November 25th. The fall rains began literally the day after we stopped digging. And seemed to come in a frenzy and pace probably not unusual to fall rains but perhaps in an effort to fill the unsightly hole and prepare for the winter snows soon to come. I remember it was December 13th or there abouts, somewhere in the middle of the night. I heard the thunderous crash from my bedroom. Peering out from the window I spotted it. The first pond mishap and I wondered and worried as I watched. Just what had I created? A small deer must have lost her way coming from the woods moving southward towards the neighbors open field to graze on what was left of any tasty grasses. She fell into the pond! And thrashed and swam her way across it. Fortunately the ice was thin only an inch or two. Nothing to compare with the weight of a strong and healthy doe. I watched in awe as she wrangled her way across the mid-section of pond probably about 50-60 feet in width. She pulled herself out on the south shore shook off and was gone in an instant. I walked the area the following morning. It was chilly but not cold enough to threaten the deer and I found no sign of her anywhere as her tracks soon disappeared off into the woods. I am curious to see what this winter brings for ice episodes.