I open my eyes, the trailing edges of a dream by woodland and river brushing against a still foggy mind – impressions of roots and moss covered rocks, ferns springing up and wildflowers blooming in shady places, flickering sunlight and blue sky seen through old trees, the song of the river in its blithe becoming.
There was melancholy in my dream and an element of panic too – the night’s concerns linger as I emerge from them with tea in hand after my night's ramblings. What if I am failing here in this lifetime? What if I am unable to share in any meaningful way, just how rare and precious and beautiful is this sacred earth we are all treading together?
The tender ferns springing from the ancient rocks in the gorge care not for such things, and they're content simply to be there in the sunlight of their native place. Perhaps, like them I get to come back and leaf out over and over again until I get things right. I remember Joanna Macy's words and am comforted:
It is my experience that the world itself has a role to play in our liberation. Its very pressures, pains, and risks can wake us up -- release us from the bonds of ego and guide us home to our vast, true nature. For some of us, our love of the world is so passionate that we cannot ask it to wait until we are enlightened.
Joanna Macy, World as Lover, World as Self
Somehow or other, I shall be here among these hills forever and drinking in the wild light. My molecules will disperse and reassemble and cavort in many other life forms, but they may remember in some small measure or scrap of their being what it was like to be here this time around. That is quite enough.
April 19, 2013
resting easy in friday rambles