Human Song

This morning the air was such that I could hear the highway to the West, and the Ocean to the East. Suddenly, I head a person call out. They did not seem distressed. Perhaps they were calling out to a dog, but it occurred to me how infrequently I hear Humans calling out. I hear their signs; car noise, doors slamming, chain saws buzzing, but not their voices. Loud as we are as a culture, we are rarely loudest with our voices, and even rarer our singing voices. I often hear birds singing long before I see them. I have seen thousands more Humans than I have heard people singing. 

Yet we can sing. Some say that we, as a species, sang before we spoke. Why did we stop? When will we start again? If we sang before we spoke, it must have been for some purpose. Have we lost that purpose? If so, is it waiting for us? While we are talking and talking trying to find our purpose, is it a song waiting to be sung?

Life

Inside the South facing kitchen window, plants are green and bright, composing as they grow and become more plantlike. 

Outside the window, plants are brown and tan, decomposing as they grow and become more Earth like. 

This reminds me that Life grows in all directions all the time. 

I wonder what kind of Life my expectations might keep me from noticing.

Housefly II

As I sit down to breath I notice Housefly, still lying frozen in front of me. As I do, it occurs to me that, around Housefly, are White Pine needles, Oak and Maple leaves, and a variety of other reflections of death, decay, and transformation. I wonder why, when first I saw Housefly days ago frozen in the Snow,  I didn't attend to these other dead things. I get curious as to why I was struck by a body and not a needle or a leaf. I then take in that the Snow upon which Housefly was originally lying has also transformed without my appreciation. I wonder what else my corpo-centric perspective is blinding me to?

Warm Energy

As I walk out the Eastern door, I notice how much more relaxed I feel in the warmer weather. I wonder why? I believe, in that moment, that the warmth creates more possibilities. I feel more energy when it is warmer outside. The it occurs to me that the energy I feel when it is warmer must be there in the colder temperatures, as well. I am left wondering how I might stay connected to this energy even when the temperatures dip.

Owl Hoot

As I walked out the Eastern door of the cabin this morning the first thing I heard was Owl. She was hooting in the Southeastern forest.  I found myself, in the silence between her hoots, anticipating her next call. I worked to pay attention to the silence, and heard the Ocean.

My culture invites me to listen to the notes and not the space in between. It asks me to forget that notes without space is not music.

Today, I will be paying attention to times when I am invited to ignore the silences in my day. I will remember that these are the times when listening is happening. Perhaps, then, I will hear the Ocean.

Bird Song

As I sit outside this morning listening, I hear the wind howl and the trees pop. But through the frigid din there is another sound. It is the birds singing. I resist the urge to characterize what they are doing in terms that I would understand. I don't know if they are calling to each other, or singing out in gratitude for the meager warmth the Sun brings. 

I do known that their calls being me something. They bring me hope. They reconnect me to the knowledge that there will be a Spring to this Winter, and that as cold as it is right now, this too shall pass. 

Once reconnected, I am able to see this moment in it's context. It is a profound moment of extreme experience that will not last.  And it has lessons to teach me.

Today, I will work to stay open to these lessons.

Tree Dance

For a number of reasons, I couldn't go outside this morning. In stead I sat facing East behind a glass door. I saw the Trees dance in the Wind. They swayed and stopped than began again, each to her own rhythm. 

As I watched, I wondered if I would have payed such close attention had I been outside. Outside, I would have been distracted by the feeling of cold and the sound of each gust. This got me thinking about how I might be able to attend more closely to each experience when they all are available; To see the trees dancing, and hear the creaking, and feel the chill on my face.

Today, I will be paying attention to when one of my sense experiences gets in the way of another. When this happens, I will attempt to heighten the other without diminishing the first.
 

Toe Lesson IV

My toe is continuing to heal, but part of the healing process requires that I wear a sock on my left foot at all times. Yesterday, I found myself walking out to the reception room at my office wondering what the people I was about to meet would think about my one sock. As it happens, they never asked.

This morning I am aware that having to wear my sock has provided me with another opportunity to encounter ego, and it's invitations of shame. I am pondering the difference between humility and humiliation. Humility reminds me that I am on a path to greater awareness. Humiliation invites me to think of my sock as a testament to failure. 

Today, I am declining the invitations of humiliation, and seeing my sock as a more public reminder of my intentions be more aware.

Cold Teacher

The ongoing deep cold invites me to be aware. There are things that I would normally do outside that, because of the cold, I either can't do, or have to prepare in order to do safely.

I appreciate the heightened awareness the cold requires. It asks me to slow down and avoid moving forward without thought.

Tree Rattle

I heard the Trees rattle this morning. I've never heard that before. The wind had picked up again, causing the branches to knock against each other.  Of course, that happens whenever the wind blows, but the long deep freeze we are having is unusual. 

The completely frozen branches sounded like dried coral in a wind chime. I suppose this kind of thing happens further North all the time, but for me it is something new. My culture invites me to worry about whether the trees can survive this cold, but I remember that the trees have old wisdom. They have been living on this planet through all sorts of weather for a long time. How they get through this will be a manifestation of that wisdom.

Then it occurs to me that Humans have been living on this planet for a long time, too. We have survived through all different types of weather as well. We learned how to get through. I wonder where in me this ancient wisdom is lurking.

Today, I will be paying attention to ways in which my ancient wisdom might be showing itself and effecting what I do in response to this remarkable cold as I listen to the Trees rattle.

Snowflake

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a single Snowflake falling. I tuned my head to get a better look, but it was lost in the white background. It got me thinking about how that single flake was unlike any other flake that had been or will be.

This reminds me about the miraculous uniqueness of every part of this amazing Creation I get to be a part of, and the importance of me valuing and enacting my own uniqueness.

Today, I will be remembering Snowflake as she inspires me to be more fully who I am.

Crow's Call

It was still cold this morning, but the wind had died down. Fine snow flakes floated down like dust. I realized Crow had been calling. I hadn't been listening. I was caught up in my thoughts about the cold.

This reminds how powerful my thoughts can be. Rather than noticing what  is happening around me, I was living in worry about the cold. 

Crow finally got a response from family in the East. Today, I will pay attention to the power of my thoughts and notice when they are distracting me from Crow's call.

Dangerous Cold

The air temperature this morning was one degree. The record for today is negative three. With the wind chill, it feels like negative twenty. My culture uses words like brutal and dangerous to describe this kind of cold. I am invited to consider the cold as a threat to me personally.

But the cold is not about me. It is not dangerous, it just is. I can make choices in relation to the cold that will put me in danger, but that is about my choices, not the cold itself. The cold that is difficult for me, just like the warmth that is difficult for some other creatures, it just what that: Cold. What I choose to do in it is what determines it's effect on me.

Today, I will be paying attention to the choices I make and their effects, and declining invitations that suggest that the weather is responsible for my mistakes. 

Snow and Mouse

This kind of snow is perfect for Mouse. The crust on the first Snow covered by the light fluffy stuff we got two days ago means she can tunnel from place to place more easily. While she is under the snow it is harder for Coyote and Owl to find her. 

But she has to run on top of the Snow sometimes. When she does, the Snow does not serve her anymore. When she is on top of the Snow, Coyote and Owl have the advantage. Mouse's dark brown fur against the bright white snow makes her very easy to see, and her tracks connect and expose her tunnels. 

This gets me thinking about the balance of Love. For Mouse, Owl, and Coyote, Snow is a help and a problem at the same time. No one gets all of the advantage, nor does anyone get all of the struggle. Love gives each opportunities and risks. What Mouse and Owl and Coyote choose to do with what they are given is up to them.

Today, I will be on the lookout for the opportunities that Love gives me, and paying attention to the choices I have that, like Snow for Mouse, are perfect for me.

Christmas Starts Today

 I woke up this morning and realized that I have had Christmas backwards all these years. Up, till now it has been about preparations, and planning for the big day. Family comes together and the staging is set. When the day arrives, we share gift and stories and a great deal of joy, and then it is  over. Along with it's end leaves the invitation to be a bit kinder to each other, more patient and more forgiving. 

But what are we celebrating?

Jesus didn't show up to say that everything was awesome. Even if I take up the Christian story of Jesus, the big boss doesn't send in a supervisor because things are going well. The supervisor shows up when there is a problem. And the supervisor's arrival doesn't signal the end of the work, but the beginning.

Today, I am taking up a new vision of Christmas, where Christmas marks he beginning of something, not the culmination of months of preparation. To me, the message Jesus brought was about the true nature of Love and that it is our human responsibility to care for one another. Rather than the end, Christmas day will be the start of another opportunity to live more fully in the message of Love and caring, sacrifice and commitment.  Today, I pledge to take up this message. I will Love more, care more, and work harder not to be distracted by fear and judgment and doubt.

Love

To say that hate is the opposite of love is to say that the Moon is the opposite of the Sun. Like the solar system, hate and anger and joy and hunger and happiness all live within the context of Love, just like the planets live within the influence of the Sun. Each planet manifests it's relationship to the Sun in different ways, but each is still a planet of the Sun.

Fear and laughter, hate and joy, pain and ecstasy are all part of Love. What I choose to manifest is up to me. The power in that choice is profound. Today, I will take responsibility for the how I choose to manifest Love in my life. I will be aware of the power I wield, and the effects of the choices I make.

Ice Path

It is sill possible to see the bricks in the walkway up to the cabin, but they are covered with a thin sheen of ice. From the looks of the forecast, the ice will be there for a while. This isn't the first time it has happened. When it does, it would take ice climbing crampons to safely navigate the path. 

Our solution is to find a new path, and we do. This morning you can see the tracks branching out into the ice covered snow that surrounds our familiar root. Regardless of the ice we find on our path, we can still get where we are going, we just find a new way to get there.

The ice will melt. New snow will come. It will get warmer.  All this is coming. But for today, we find new routs, that create new possibilities.

The Plan

I distinctly remember the first time I allowed myself to give up on “the plan.” It's a long story that culminates with my family; myself, my wife, and two very young children, stuck in highway traffic in a non-air conditioned car on a very hot summer day heading south, away from the beach. 

“The Plan” was to reconnecting with some old friends at a party in the city. We had made a commitment, and, up till that moment, if I committed to doing something, that commitment overruled anything that showed up in my path. It could have been my children's flushed faces, or my own ambivalence, or the occasional sea breeze that could still reach us from the, as yet, not too distance coast.  Whatever it was, somehow I was able to let “the plan” go. We pulled off at the next exit, and headed for the Ocean. 

Predictability, our friends in the city were understanding. They issued as a rain check and wished us well.  I don't remember much about what happened after turning around. It seems the lesson wasn't in what happened next, but in the turning itself. 

Since then, “the plan” has lost much of it's power. Rather than a blue print of what will happen, it is a scaffolding around what might. It is a soft story of possibility that lets us figure out what we might want to take along, but it doesn't limit us or prohibit us from changing course along the way.

“The plan” has a way of sneaking back into my life. Like most problems, it likes to connect itself to things that matter to me. It tries to connect itself to ideas like responsibility and letting other people down. 

I have found that the best way for me to determine when “the plan” is trying take over is to pause and ponder. If I can stop what I'm doing, take a couple of breathes, notice what's going on around me, and still feel good about my next steps, I will continue on. If, however, I am pulled to put my head down, ignore some of what is happening, and forge ahead, I can be pretty sure “the plan” is working it's magic.

Today, I will be looking out for times when “the plan” tries to take over and blind me from seeing options. I will avoid the seduction of commitments that don't mean anything to anyone but “the plan” and allow my day to find it's way illuminated by the light of the possibilities that arise.

Early Snow

When the eleven o'clock snow storm starts at eight in the  morning, I can get caught up in thoughts that something is amiss. Then I take a breath and realize that the snow starts when it starts.

My work is to attend to what I can control, what I do in response. The morning wood run will be a bit wetter, and I'll have to start shoveling a bit earlier. Other than that I will sit back and enjoy the beauty around me.

Toe Lesson III

I will find out tomorrow if the risk of amputation still looms. For today, however, I have ten toes. I am grateful for my toes and whatever time I have left with all of them. 

This reminds me how easily I can take things for granted, including my toes.

Today, I will use my toe as a reminder to pay attention to all of my blessings, to my fingers and legs and arms and feet and friends and health, to the Sky and Earth and Air and on and on. There are many.  If I lose my toe it's absence will serve as a reminder of how rich my life truly is.