Saturday, March 5, 2011

Early Morning Amidst The Ice And Snow

In the dark hinge of winter when all seems frozen and lost, come with me to the place where the snow has blown away and even the bitter ice is thin upon the ground. 
There I will show you why no cause is ever truly lost; there, where the ground is rimed with winter's terrible icy triumph I will point and say to you, "life will overcome." In that moment when all seems darkest and lost, when even the sun has deserted the sky and the dead branches hold up a tarnished and starless dome over a dead and frozen world, in that very moment the wheel of life begins to turn again and its rampant green victory is assured. 

The crown and bitter chains of winter will be thrown down, broken, and Spring will come again. Come with me to the place where the tender shoots grow up from frozen earth, see with me the buds stirring on the branches and hear the glad song of the birds as the welcome the longer days. 

Be here with me and feel the wheel of life turning again all around you. The sun is making its return and its light lies heavy and warm on your face and eyelids when you turn them up to the sky. 

 Soon the ice and snow will be no more for another long and fertile summer. See the beauty that the cold can add to the world, then let it go.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

The River In Winter

Shackled in ice, the river yet flows. In the absence of sun its vitality keeps it fluid. The river's perpetual motion drives it to the sea. Come to stand with me at the icy verge and see the hidden life of the trees and water, the reeds and grass beneath the snow. This is the sleeping night time of the forest and riverbank, the long winter's rest fueling the renewal of Spring. Here we can hear the water bubbling and flowing, the winter birds calling, the soft slumbering whisper of the trees as they rock in the wind. The clouds scud across the sky and like the phoenix go down in sunset flames to rise again from the night's dark ashes. Through the snow you can feel the steady pulse of the engine that drives all of life and lends the power to endure in freezing darkness until the sun returns again. Take its energy into yourself, let it rise through the soles of your feet, through the smell of the river water in your nostrils, from the music of the birds and trees in your ears. In this stillness at the dark edge of day, here in the trough of winter, feel the energy that drives the river water to the see filling and healing you, here by the river in winter. 

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Noon On Mars

Come with me now far from the warm and wet places we were born. Let our feet stray from the paths known to man and walk along the cliff's edge where no man has ever walked. See the shadow of the red rock against the black sky. This place is real; all things here have their own form and weight, and the shadows have knife-sharp edges. This is the dry land. Here there is no leaf, no insect, no bird. Here instead there is the quiet moaning of the wind, the rustle of dust and sand, the terrible stillness of the rock at noonday. This is the land of death where no life begins. Stand for just a moment with me at the cliff's edge and see the dry bed where no river will ever flow again. We will all come to this dry land in our time. In its arid unseen stillness we will find at last peace. In silence and stasis, under these bright hard stars, we will finally know the answer to all questions and the true shape of the Universe. In unmoving calm we will embrace all things and reunite with them.  Take a moment of this stillness, this absence of life and motion, with you today and love the life and motion that is yours that much more.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Evening In The Forest

Come to the forest with me. On the hillside is the remains of a watercourse now dry; we can walk the staircase of stones to the top, or listen to the droplets of hidden water still falling near the bottom. The dry leaves of autumn crunch beneath our feet. The smells of life, death and renewal are thick in the air like perfume or mist. Here is serenity; the fogs begin here, weaving their shrouds between the treetrunks like ghosts. The sunsets end here, burning the leaves in molten fire. Between the rising of the moon and the setting of the sun the birds cry their mourning over the death of another day. In this still time, as the lowering sun sends its bars of reddened light between the tree trunks, come to the forest with me. Breathe in the exhalation of the plants and trees. Feel the richness of the leaves and moss beneath your feet. Cease to think and to plan and begin to simply be. Come, be here in the forest with me.

Monday, January 24, 2011