A Marked Trail

There are not very many of us who can ‘be’ in a moment without dragging the trappings of our past experiences with us.  Often, I am not conscious that there is a story running in my head; beliefs, embedded cultural teachings, childhood, schooling, adult struggles – all occurrences that trace a course to me at any point in time.   

A good visual is the geological phenomenon of moving rocks taking place in Death Valley, California.  Behind the igneous forms are wakes grooved into the clay that map the various routes.  Individual positions have been documented and then after several years, recalculated giving proof of movement tens to hundreds of feet long.  No one has seen the rocks move and furthermore, the energy that caused the trail of motion is still the subject of research.    

Living has altered what I accept as true, there is a history clearly marking my path but the influence or the pressure of each experience even now, is the focus of exploration.

Fatigues

If I listen when human noise is quiet, I can hear what is real.  This parallel world of raindrops, wind, plants, highly organized terrestrial invertebrate, a contented infant … life existing with an industrious demand to push forth with no agenda.    

The natural world is without country or cause.  As the human develops within a culture that we did not select but were born into, our brain seems to close to the broader world and focus on what is offered us.  I wonder if I hid in a darkened cave for weeks with no outside communication, upon walking outside, would the propaganda gap close? After such an enclosure, would my intuition increase when observing the rhapsody play of light, greens and blues as if seeing them fresh … all natural phenomena, would I then know what is right?  Could that experience lift this veil woven with threads of red, white and blue? 

I sometimes feel like I live under a camouflage shroud beneath where an unhealthy ego can breed … insisting: ‘feed me, feed me’ so loudly that the echo magnifies to reverberate with vibrations of horror (bombs and guns and burning flesh) obscuring the legitimate resonance of fresh water, a breeze, a bud, a hive or the pleasant sound of a happy child.

Rock Steady

This past fall, I took a beginning geology class at a local university.  One apparent fact, after the elementary introduction, is that rocks are formed as a result of temperature and pressure.  The only prior knowledge I have of such metamorphosis is demonstrated by placing a water filled ice tray into the freezer. After time,  the transition from liquid to solid is revealed. 

Considering this example of transformation in nature makes sense.  Change for me is a result of internal and external temperature and pressure.  To evoke lasting change, I have to undergo chaos.  From that experience, I can choose to focus on the evolved existence or to allow insecurity to take hold and create dissonance causing further conversion.  I like this fluid explanation … I can be in harmony with the volcanic-like spew of crisis knowing that as a predicament settles down there is a new reality and within this truth, I can be authentic.

Credit is Debt.

When I reflect on the word credit, I understand why using the symbolic plastic card does not immediately flash the message ‘Warning … warning.  Danger!’  to travel on my thought stream and register caution within the brain.  The word evokes an uplifting and harmless connotation. 

“1.)  Belief or confidence in the truth of something.  2.) The reputation of sound character or quality.  3.) A source of honor or distinction.”  *  Why shouldn't I be proud to say:  I have great credit.  But, continuing through the listing, far down, mixed with all of the optimism is 9a: “An arrangement for deferred payment of a loan or purchase.”* 

Credit is Debt.  This knowledge brings to light a negative register of words:  an obligation, a liability, and an offense … something I owe.  Lack.  Debt takes away the choices that I have.  Debt limits the possibility of each day and I have come to a decision:  2012 is my year to not spend more than I make and further, to save.   Taking the necessary action offers boundless potential.  I promise to share at the end of the year the result.

*The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language.  Fourth Edition

I am only a Messenger

A person I admire often made this point when lecturing:  “I am not the message.”  This is true for the thoughts I share with you through my blog.  A truth manifests itself but I cannot always live it.  This past month brought me to my knees.  2012 offers renewed hope because I know that the splendor of natural phenomena can heal.

Life has positive meaning … I do not know how to reveal this, not even to myself.  But what I have discovered is that when I let my character enter a dark tunnel of limit and sadness, this act is always coupled with being distracted by lack.  This deficient existence I manufacture only has to participate in nature to revive.  The evolutionary process of plants, animals, the landscape, weather – really all things not made by humans – are there free for me.  I often approach this knowledge with solemn reverence but I believe this should be coupled with roguish abandon.  I am integral, a stitch in the natural tapestry ... I can add color and joy if I choose.

Dog-eared Days of Winter ?

Today I shared a book with my daughter ... a hard back volume with half of the back cover chewed off.  The tome stayed on my bookshelf for years as a reminder that good intent does not always reap positive results. Handing her the hardback was a moment of laughter between us as she examined the gnawed up, literally dog-eared, book. 

She has purchased a new puppy … not just a puppy with any hope of sweet smallness – this new arrival is a Great Dane.   I wish her the best.  The title of my gift is:  The Natural Way to Train Your Dog by Carol Benjamin.   Well, chewing is instinctive to the dog … I guess that fits under the category “natural”.   Oh, did I say that she also purchased a new leather couch?  Or that she is a full time working single Mom?

It is nice being on this side of life observing with detached amusement how we humans can complicate our daily existence.  I will hold my comments and be there to listen and hopefully applaud.

Knock, Knock

I was studying a frosty etching on the window sill when a flash of crimson caught my attention.  Outside in the small woods, a scarlet color stood out against the snow backdrop.

‘A Pilieated Woodpecker,’ I cried out.  The black, white and red bird, over a foot long, walked across a fallen log and then proceeded up a tall pine.  His beak struck the trunk like a hammer… crack …  crack … crack.  Stealthily, I slid the door wall open and stepped outside on the deck; my shoes melting their mark on the white wetness.  The woodpecker stopped his work, hunting insects in the bark I assume, and then ever so slightly cocked his head.  A maniacal laugh echoed through the icy, hushed afternoon.  My breath caught; the moment forever imprinted in my heart.

2012 Is My Year to be Authentic

Recently, I was sharing this blog with the editor of a local paper.  He asked if I would categorize the writing as advice.  “Advice!”  I had to laugh. “If you knew my journey throughout this past year, you would hardly want guidance from me.”  Which begs the question: what is the point of my blog? 

The answer is sharing.  Sharing what I’ve noticed; what I believe to be noteworthy and also revealing the many times I have failed.

Throughout this past month I have not written because I was on a horrendous emotional journey.I participated in the hurt feelings that I held onto during December.  Blaming another person is a shameful out and offers no opportunity for emotive maturity.  In the company of stubbornness, I nursed the ache that seemed to center around my heart.  I could actually feel pain at the core of my being…my chest area felt dull.  Inside my skull, the brain rotated thoughts over and over creating a distorted reality.  All of this activity removed me from what was real; the story was flawed.   Martyring to this pain, I closed off communication because I did not want to suffer. 

Really, a miracle occurred … taking into account our history, the beauty of everyday existence that I shared with a special person, a small voice generating from my gut urged me to take action.  Thankfully, forgiveness was an option.  I am committed to communication and yet when faced with a difficult challenge, I closed up.  Not only did I wound me, but I denied many of the truths that I have shared with readers of this blog.  I continue to be humbled.  This is my lesson:  Two people who love each other have the potential to destroy what was exquisite between them.  Protecting the vulnerability of the person I love will develop a shield for me too.  Love is fragile on many fronts … taking responsibility for where I failed is my first step.  I desire our relationship to mature … in 2012, I will not build emotional walls.  This year is a time of authenticity for me.  I want to start by saying: I love you to my companion.