~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
Even now I see, as I gaze at these spent asters
fallen on the new snow, their grace remains,
their delicate song echos still and enchants
so that it is suddenly late summer in my mind
and the hillside is strewn with their purple petals
as they waltz with the goldenrod in the warm air.
It was a fine dream, and I thanked them,
awed that they could hold such power, even now.
You would think that in this biting cold,
with its stark spaces and sharp air,
the world would be a hostile place.
Yet look how the azalea holds open its leaves.
Look how gently the snow lays itself down.
You may think it was here before you arrived,
that it will endure long after you have gone.
But dig down deep enough, read the stories
of the layers, of the rocks, the bones, and
you will find that once upon a time
this was jungle. Once it was covered
in mountains of ice. What luck, then,
that we can stand in a shimmering dusting
of snow on this cold but temperate land,
gazing at bare white sycamore limbs.
What great good fortune indeed!
Given the cutting cold, you could wish, of course,
to pull the covers over your head, to burrow in
until the thermometer’s thin red line
stretched a few dozen marks higher.
But then you would miss this crystal blue morning,
this bright, stark, shimmering day.
You would miss the ground-diamond sparkle
of the powdery snow rising around your boots
as you hiked to the edge of the lake.
You would miss this silence so complete
that you can hear the breathing of the trees.
If it’s going to be winter, it may as well snow.
It may as well drape the boughs with crystal
and invite the children out to play. It may as well
etch the branches of the woodlands and scatter
powdered diamonds on the lawn. If it must
be cold, it may as well grace us with beauty,
like these shimmering love-flakes falling now
from the high silvery sky, the grand silent song
singing Yes all around us.
For a moment, a tongue of flame
flickered through the snowy woods
briefly coloring the bark of a maple
before it disappeared into the gray
of the deep winter day. Like a smile
flashed by a loved one boarding a plane,
its promise and warmth lingered
long after the sight itself was gone
and would be enough, I knew,
to get me through all the in-between days.
Like a Zen sand painting, destined
to disappear, a work of art glistens
in the light of the sun as it rises
over the eastern hills, its light revealing
the scene so delicately etched on my window.
And it’s not enough that the frost sculpted
crystalline flowers and branches;
it’s made a shadow layer, too, a misty
mountain, rising beyond this meadow,
rainbow snow falling on its slopes.
Behind the frost, a shadowed hillside
draped in dawn’s blue and a matrix
of tree limbs hang from a strange,
foreign sky. Later, it will take on a magic
of its own. But in this glistening moment
it’s the frost that captivates and stuns me
with its unexpected evanescent beauty.
Just when you thought another frozen day would do you in,
January breathes a few degrees of warmth into the world, enough
to heal you, enough to transform ice into water again.
It’s not the last of the arctic days. But it’s enough to let you relax,
to loosen your tight shoulders, to walk without a hat if you want.
Remember this when the next round comes.
Nothing lasts forever. Ice turns to water, then back again.
It makes us strong. We get to practice our resilience,
to practice ease with all that comes.
Long, long ago, in a world far away, I began my online writing career with a now-defunct site called The Magical Mirror Machine. It was a continuation of a paper newsletter that I sent to a list of people years before. The premise of the Magical Mirror Machine is that the world reflects back to us exactly who we are.
I remembered it this week when a bout of introspection got me to thinking about the way that we often criticize in others the very shortcomings that we’re most blind to in ourselves. If we paid attention to what the Magical Mirror was showing us, we’d have a good idea where we could use a course-correction ourselves.
Try it out. The next time you catch yourself criticizing somebody, think about what you want them to be that you believe they’re not being. Then ask yourself in what ways you are guilty of the same thing.
It can take a little digging. If you’re nagging your roommate because he always leaves his socks on the floor, the Mirror probably isn’t saying that you should be neater yourself. (Although that might be the message. Are you always leaving globs of toothpaste in the bathroom sink?) Instead, the Mirror is probably seeing through your surface complaint to a deeper issue.
It could be saying, for instance, that you wish your roommate would be more appreciative of the work you do to keep your environment clean and tidy. In other words, you want more appreciation for your contributions to the household. Hmmm. And just how appreciative are you of his contributions? When’s the last time you sincerely and specifically expressed your appreciation for the things that he does?
The way the Mirror works is that what you put out, it reflects back. If you want to get back something different, try putting it out. If you want to be listened to, listen more. If you want more affection, give more of it.
But don’t forget to look at the beauty that the Mirror shows you as well. When you’re keenly interested in something, the Mirror is hinting at one of your strengths. When you’re enjoying building something, it’s reflecting your creativity. When you notice how kind people are, it’s reflecting your own kindness. When you’re laughing, it’s showing you what you enjoy.
It’s these kinds of messages, the positive ones, that will tell you what will truly enrich your life. Notice when the Mirror is reflecting your best traits, and cultivate those. Learn what makes you happy, what touches your heart, what makes you feel strong and capable and confident, and make a point of doing more of those things.
We always get farther by cultivating our strengths than by trying to fix our weaknesses. And once you recognize what your strengths truly are, you can draw on them to guide you the next time the Mirror shows you a place that needs a little polishing.
Wishing you a week where you brilliantly shine!
Warmly,
Susan
The sound of the creek, filled by this midwinter thaw,
triggers the fisherman’s dreams. He feels himself
planted firmly in its waters, leaning into them
as they rush past his hip-high boots. He can smell
the boots. His muscles move in his sleep as he imagines
casting his line into the wind, watching it fly
through the wet air that tastes of spring and falling
into the waters, upstream. And in his dream he calls
to the trout and feels the tug on his line as one bites,
and he reels it in, oblivious now to the cold waters,
to their push against his legs. It is only him and the fish
now and this singular joy. And the joy feeds him,
and he wakes glad, even if spring is still ten weeks away.