Leaf Lesson

A single leaf falls from Maple Tree, and lands in the Ferns just Northeast of the cabin. This leaf will nourish the Ferns as it decomposes, returning to the Earth everything that came to it through the Tree. Where it lands is a product of when it is released, the strength and direction of the Wind, the power of gravity, and a number of other factors, most of which are outside the control of Maple Tree.

This gets me thinking about how much I would like to control the effects of my actions, even though I can't. I would love to guide them toward the outcomes I think would be best, but this is outside of my control.

Like the leaf, the effects of my actions drift out from the moment of choice to have the effects they will have. The best I can do it pay attention to these effects, and allow what I learn to inform subsequent choices.

Today, I will be honoring this leaf lesson and diverting my energy away from attempts to control, and toward my efforts to learn from my experiences and make different choices.

Tree Time

Due West of the cabin's front porch, there are two Maple Trees. One of them has dropped most of its leaves. The other is still shedding. Seeing his, I realize that, until today, I didn't notice the leaves falling from either Tree.

As I sit and watch the leaves fall one by one, I am aware that I could have taken the time to witness both Trees transform to their current state from their state of bright green leafy-ness, but I did not. This gets me thinking about how the illusion of rapid change is usually a result of me not paying sufficient attention to the gradual transitions of life. I did not wake up one day at the age of fifty four. A significant number of Winters and Springs and Summers and Autumns have transpired to get me where I am today. Noticing the moments of each enriches my experience of my past, and slows time.

No matter how bare the Tree is, each leaf was released one at a time. I have the opportunity to notice and appreciate each transition that happens in my life, from this moment to the next, like leaves falling from a tree. Otherwise I might wake up one day and wonder where it all went.

Today, I am grateful to be able to sit outside for a while watching the leaves fall, and notice the richness of my life.

Freedom

This morning, while I was sitting, Crows circled in the sky and Squirrel ran across the grass, climbing up onto the wood pile. I thought about how familiar her feet must of felt on trees. I'm not sure why, or even if it's true, but it seems that most of the creature cousins I see these days are Squirrels and Crows. This got me thinking about how important these two families are to me.

Then I started to wonder why. Then I remembered. They remind me about the freedom that is possible in my life when I am not distracted by the kind of thinking that links me to things I can't control. When I see Crow fighting with Hawk, or Squirrel making a ten foot leap from tree to tree, I think about what it would take for me to do those kinds of things.

I would have to be present. To be present, I have to be thinking about what I am doing, not what I might do or what might happen. I have to be engage in the life I am leading, not the one I might have lead, or may have someday.

Thank you my creature cousins for reminding me about the importance of being present in my life. Today, I will be doing my best to live this lesson.

Earth Time

Here at the cabin, I plant our Garlic late in the fall. Timing is crucial because it has to be planted before the ground freezes, but late enough so that the bulbs will not start to sprout. This warm Autumn means I am still waiting to plant, and that planting time could be much later this year.

I am reminded that things happen in their own time, not in mine. Waiting till the time is right allows me to reconnect to Earth time, and pay attention to the invitations I receive to discount the flow and the effects it has on my life.

Thunder

Lightning flashed brightly in the East. The thunder rolled in later, and seemed to surround me. I wondered what it would have looked like from the beach.

The lightning signaled change, and got me thinking about how I can get used to things being a certain way. My perception that thing are ever a certain way is an illusion, since things are always changing.

Today, I will be paying attention for signs of small change, and allowing this to reconnect me to the flow.

Pink Sky

The Sun glowed pink through the early morning clouds, illuminating the colors in the tree leaves. Like burning coals, the trees shone bright and shimmered in the warm breeze.

“Red in the morning, sailors take warning.” The rain did come, and it occurred to me that the warning that can be seen in the clouds applies only to humans in boats. My creature cousins who live in and on the water are not imperiled by rain.

Today, I will be paying attention to times when ideas of good and bad are reflections only of what is useful and not useful to my human family members.

False Sunrise

Hours before the Sun actually crests the horizon, the sky begins to brighten. I have heard this referred to as a false sunrise. This may be because sunrise is considered an event not a process. The precise moment when the Sun is visible on the horizon can be determined. The moment when the sky starts to get brighter is a it more difficult to discern.

This gets me thinking about how I am invited to think about my life as a series of events, instead of a process. There is a specific moment that determines when I am one year older, even though the year has been progressing for three hundred and sixty five days. The time I get up, the time I post this, the time I eat breakfast, these are the markers I am encouraged to think about when I consider the unfolding of my life. They are the sing posts that can distract me from the path, or the map that distracts me from the territory.

I have also heard a false sunrise described as the illusion created by the atmosphere that makes it appear that the Sun has crested the horizon moments before it actually does. In this way we describe what a moment is not, but miss what it is. This first explosion of light may not be the sunrise, but it is something. It is part of a process.

Today, I will be paying attention to times when I am invited to look at the sunrise, and ignore the change in light.

Assumptions

Late last night, I heard Squirrel running in the woods. She was under Oak tree. I was struck by her being out so late. Then it occurred to me that I had been making assumptions about Squirrel. Why shouldn't she be out at night? I was. Why had I assumed she would be awake during the day and sleep only at night? I wondered what else I might be missing as a result of my curiosity being stunted by assumptions.

Today, I will be paying attention to the effects of assumptions, and what they might keep me from seeing.

Tree Ghost

This morning, I had a vision of an arch way created by two Maple Trees. One of them was a Maple I cut down several years ago. They were both bright orange, set off by a clear blue sky.

I am grateful to live a life haunted by the ghosts of Trees.

Leaves

The early morning Sun shines through the brilliant colors of the changing leaves, and reminds me of magnificent stained glass windows in cathedrals. The beauty of the world beyond my culture is limitless, but fragile. As my culture changes, cathedrals are torn down and the ancient stained glass windows shatter on the ground, or get tucked away in cellars. The beauty that lives wild and free just outside my window can also come crashing down if I take it for granted.

Today, I will be paying attention to the beauty that lives all around me, and remembering that I play a role in making sure my grandchildren have the chance to see it, too.

Flowers

As Autumn progresses, the flowers around the cabin begin to turn brown. Some drop their seeds to the ground, some shrivel and turn to dust to be carried off on the Wind. I realize that this process actually started weeks ago. Each flower had its peak color, and started to fade, but it only now that I start to notice.

There is a line that I wrote in a song. The song is called Flowers. The line is, “Flowers grow and die away, and don't ask for another day.” The song is a testament to the wisdom of Flowers. They live fully in every moment, and die away when it is time. They don't wait for the perfect moment, or hold back because of what someone might think. These are traps I have fallen into.

Today, I am grateful for the wisdom of Flowers, and the lessons they have taught me. Today, I will live more like Flowers.

Practice

There are four ideas that form the foundation of my personal practice. They are acceptance, forgiveness, gratitude, and service. This is how they weave into my life today. I accept the pain that I have to deal with in each moment. I forgive myself for the mistakes I made that lead to the injury. I am grateful for the things I can do the the pain does not prevent. I do what I can do to be of use in spite of the injury.

Connections

Every morning, as I collect Mint leaves for my tea, I return to the fact that the Mint I use grows from roots that were given to me by a friend. Her father collected the roots from the town where I was born.

I am grateful to my friend, her father, and the plants for the daily connection I have to them and the place of my birth.

Mistakes

As I split wood, every log I pick up and put on the chopping block is a reminder. I am reminded of the trees I brought down to provide us with heat this Winter. I am reminded of the damage I did not do to the cabin or myself in doing so. I am also reminded of the mistakes I made when I cut a log too short or too long. Both instances will require some form of adjustment in the splitting process that will mean more work.

As I ponder this, it occurs to me that no matter what I encounter in the splitting process, eventually all the wood will be split and stacked. Finally, it will all be burned, along with the evidence of my mistakes. As we burn the wood this Winter, all my errors will turn onto smoke and vanish up through the chimney. All that will be left is knowledge.

Today, I will be paying attention to the fact that everything I do creates knowledge. I can use this knowledge to inform the moment I am in, or to keep me stuck in past mistakes.

Reminiscences

Yesterday was a particularly poignant day for me. It was filled with many connections and re-connections. There were moments I will cherish and moments that invite doubt and insecurity. All of these thoughts are seductive and pull me out of what is currently happening in my life.

Today, I will be working to return to the Now where I can begin to inhabit the possibilities sparked by yesterday, while avoiding becoming mired in reminiscences and regret.

Healing IV

As my healing progresses, I realize I have to return to doing things I did before the injury. For me, too much rest means more vulnerability to injury as muscles become weaker and weaker. I am aware of the nuanced balance between work and rest that challenges by healing body without hurting it again. Tension that results from fear of new pain is different from injury pain. Presence in the moment is useful in deciphering the two.

Me and Moon

Outside this morning I looked up at the the half moon shining in the Southern sky. It was ringed with haze, and though I thought that might have been a result of the moisture in the atmosphere, it occurred to me that it could also be an artifact of my fifty-something-year-old eyes. This got me thinking about the relationship between me and what seems to be. Everything I experience is a manifestation of me and what seems to be around me. I remember that everything I consider to be not me includes a bit of me. I am grateful for this relationship.

Interconnection

When I pick up a log to split it, I notice that if it has been on the ground for enough time, the ground sticks to it. As I pull the soft Earth off, it occurs to me that the log has already started to transform. Soil and wood combine to become Earth once again. Than it occurs to me that they have always been connected. Seeing roots and dirt rather than a fluid web of interconnected life is a manifestation of my own misguided thinking. I think tree and soil so I see tree and soil, but where does tree stop and soil begin?

Today, I will be paying attention to the effects my thinking has on my perception of my world; where this is useful and where it gets in the way.

Cloud Time

This morning the thought occurred to me, “How much time will I allow myself to heal?” Then I looked up at the clouds. Between me and the upper stratosphere where there are no clouds, there are many layers of wind currents. While I was watching, the upper clouds were quite still while the lower clouds were moving very quickly.

I was reminded of how clouds move. They travel with the wind, not resisting, not anticipating, and without commentary. They follow the flow created by the warming and cooling of Earth. They are not impatient to reach a destination or longing for their departure point. They are simply where they are, as they are. All this reminded me that I will heal in the time it takes for me to heal. What I allow or don't allow is irrelevant. My choice is to be present to the process as it happens, or lose track of it, risking doing something that will re-injure me creating a new trajectory of healing.

There are things I can do today that I could not do yesterday without pain. For this, I am grateful. That is where I am today.

Gratitude

There are people living on this planet right now who stay up sometimes for days dancing and singing out of gratitude for a good hunt, or a good harvest, or the healing of a relative. They dance and sing to give back, even though they have to do it all again. Today, I will be pondering this lesson and challenging myself to up my gratitude game.