Frosty morning

The dew was already frozen on the grass when I went out last night at 5:30 p.m. to pick parsley and beets for last night's dinner. Stephen was fixing a baked chicken, stuffed with rice, apricots and some of our dried apples and peaches. (I don't know if meal choice was because we spent Thanksgiving in New York City with some 25 relatives of our respective families, and had no Thanksgiving-like leftovers, but the small stuffed bird, the roasted potatoes, onions and beets were a wonderful end to the Thanksgiving holiday.)

The pine trees were frosted this morning. I watched as the sun was turning the tips green and melting the thinning ice. I had the desire to go out and photograph the fleeting moment but an impending phone appointment made that impossible.

Now the frost is gone and the trees are totally sunlit. I imagine that there are spots in the woods yet that are hidden from the light that remain frozen still. I think about how that mirrors the hidden places in our hearts: the self doubt and the limiting beliefs that remain frosty, cold and barren.

How fortunate for us, as humans, that our inner life force is strong and that with each breath we have the capacity to open our hearts and let in the warming light.

After my call, I notice that there are places where the frost exists still, and I make my way from my the house into the morning's chill and back again.

From my bedroom window

The wind blows and the pine trees sway in the side field, just beyond my bedroom window. Sitting in bed, propped up with pillows, I watch as the branches dance, each one to a slightly different rhythm. I note that they move with the wind and always, always, come back to stillness. With a large gust, I imagine that the truck of the tree sways as well.

I remember being in the woods last week and listening to the sound that the trees made when the trunk was moved. At the time, I imagined that it was the tree speaking. It seems meaningful in this moment that a tree emits sounds when buoyed around and is silent in tranquility. I think about how a baby cries when it is unhappy. How often we are moved to speak when we have objection.

Additionally, ironically, thought my eyes this morning, I hear them speak to me of silence. In their movement, they teach me about rest and stillness.

On this morning, the day before Thanksgiving, I am thankful for these paradoxical lessons.

Getting creative

Often, in the face of conflict, I can become quiet. So happy to know that some get creative. With family flying in this Thanksgiving week, I find this video heartening.

Tree Wisdom #3

Sometimes we just get caught -- no fault of our own.

Tree Wisdom #2

I have seen many years, but before me was the forest.

A mirror for gratitude

As Stephen and I drove to the Fellowship on October 17, I saw this view and wanted to stop and photograph it. But alas, I was the service leader for the morning, and I felt that I had to pass the still pond by.

So you can imagine my delight when the following Sunday, driving in two cars, with Stephen ahead of me (because I had a meeting that I needed to get to following Skip Mendler's fabulous presentation on the Quaker response to global change), that I noticed that the pond was still and reflective again. A quick u-turn at Three Wishes brought me back to this image, with permission to seize the moment.

Undoubtedly, the view had changed. Undoubtedly, between the week I didn't stop and week I did, the details of the image have altered. Still, and I mean still in a different way, the reflection speaks for itself. And I ponder about how, when our minds and our spirits are still and calm, we embody the universal truth first put forth by Hermes Trismegistus "As above, so below," and gain a certain perspective on life, and stillness, in the midst of the everyday confusing realities.

Mostly, I was grateful that Pat and Jim had the key to the Fellowship, and that I could follow my intention to stop and capture the fleeting.

Speaking of gratitude, I just came across this blog about practicing 30 days of gratitude and it seems like a good idea. I'm going to do it, how about you? www.thirtydaysofgratitude.blogspot.com