The woods were still dark, the morning sun only now rising on the sleeping scene, the branches bare, the revelry over, the previous night’s rain having washed to the ground the bits of what remained.
Except for the flaming scarlet song floating down the hillside through the night’s debris, I might have missed her altogether, there, at the crest of the hill, her leaves alone remaining. She sang as one deep in reverie, uttering a last, personal blessing over all that she had witnessed here since spring, humbled perhaps at the realization that she got to be the final witness of it all. Imagine that. The last one.
The night before I came across this water-washed sculpture made of the roots of a tree and time and weather, I watched a great buck with a multi-pointed crown slowly climb the western hill, listening, watching, the first I’ve seen this season.
“A deer.” The word sprang to my mind the moment I saw this graceful figure, hewn from a tree, here by the creek. I stepped closer, taking in the creation’s lines and texture and colors, the sorts of things I learned to notice last winter when that was all that was left to see. And now the season of such seeing begins again and something eager rises within me.
Getting there is one thing. The destination’s the main reason for the journey, I suppose. But it’s not everything, and maybe not even the most important. Once you reach it, after all, another soon takes its place. Always there is more to see and do. Just maybe it’s the journey itself that matters most, the times you paused along the way to look around, to feel yourself being, alive, savoring the company, the day’s fine view.
Blessed are we when we have a companion who lingers by our sides as we travel our days, someone whose heart holds our own gently, who flows with our moods without judgment, who understands our thoughts and ways, someone who makes the days of peace more lovely, and the days of darkness easier to bear, who lends strength when we are weak, and who applauds us when we’re strong, someone whose smile is as warm as sunshine, and whose love lets us know that our life is worthwhile.
They don’t settle down right away. Like children tucked into bed after an exciting day, the trees take some time to sink into silence. First, they must whisper stories to each other, to giggle and tease. They must wiggle a bit and ease themselves into just the right position before the winter dreams will come, floating in like clouds on a snowy evening. But then, what stillness! And beneath it, what stupendous dreams they dream!
This exquisite moment, like them all, was, you know, inevitable, poured from all the causes that came before. From the instant the first note was sung, all the others followed, arising from its tone. These woods, this slant of sunlight, my hand lifting the camera to catch them, your eyes seeing the scene, your mind sensing its warmth and depth, all these were inherent in that first pure note, that first exhalation of the perfect, infinite Song.
Just before the music begins, silence flows through the hall. Before his arrow flies, the archer holds the bow string still and taut. The creek gathers itself in stillness before it cascades in its fall. The great song of being travels in oscillating waves, the ebb becoming the flow, the up the down, the off the on, the hush the rush. And in the space between, the deep and silent space, Love breathes its song.
I ran across a quote this week that has long been meaningful for me. It’s by author “George Eliot”, the pen name of Mary Ann Evans, one of the leading English writers of the mid-1800’s.
“Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles,” she said. Then she added this powerful line: “What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other?”
It was rather synchronistic that I happened on that particular quote this week, for two reasons.
The first reason is that I had a remarkable experience early in the week. It was a gorgeous autumn day, warm and sunny with the last bits of scarlet and gold dancing in the trees, and I had been in the woods with my camera—one of my very favorite things to do. I found myself catapulted into what I call “a trance of beauty.” My spirits were high, and when I stopped to pick up a couple groceries on my way home, I found myself seeing beauty in every face I gazed on.
People noticed me looking at them, a smile on my face, and even the ones that seemed burdened and care-worn inevitably smiled back and returned my “Hello.” I could actually see them brightening for a moment, as if they suddenly felt recognized and affirmed somehow. It was magical, and I was moved by the power a simple smile held.
The other reason the quote struck me was because it’s second part – “What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other?” – both summarized and answered for me, the unformed question that rolls around like a tangled knot inside me when I see the division and conflict around me.
We have been propagandized on every side into dropping each other into labeled bins, “for” or “against” whatever issue we can name, into seeing each other as either ally or enemy instead of recognizing each other as a fellow human being. And worse, we have somehow, it seems, fallen into a snare of thinking those who are “against” our positions deserve to be silenced, banished, at least from our personal spheres, and perhaps even from the face of the earth.
That sounds pretty drastic, I know. But it’s a stance I witness every day, to my deep sorrow. I don’t know how to cure it on a mass level. I suspect the cure must rise from the grass roots—from you and me. As the wise, old saying goes, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” If you want to see more respect between people, give it. If you want to see more tolerance, more kindness, be more tolerant, be kind.
What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for one another?
To that I can only say Amen.
Wishing you a week where you strive to personify all the best that you wish to see in the world. You can always begin with a smile.
Don’t let these warm days fool you. Do you not see that the sycamores have given their all? That the gold of the maples has fallen? In the woods the squirrels are busily burying nuts and growing thick fur. Treat this mild spell of comfort as a grace, given you to gather memories of color and soft air, of flowing waters where leaves float like boats and ducks paddle freely through a still-liquid world. Take it as a kindness, given by the Yes, as a treasure for you to hold in your heart, to warm you when the winds blow cold.
Imagine floating, on a fine autumn day, down from the tree that birthed you, gently floating on a breath of a breeze and landing, feather-soft, on water so still you can’t even see it.
