Sunday, March 27, 2011
Coming up from the barn this morning I paused on the studio porch to look out at the intense green of my neighbor's pasture and the shapes of budding trees in the cold spring fog. In that pause I encountered the silence underlying all the sense impressions of chill and woodsmoke and greening spring. I love sitting in meditation because it allows me to rest in that fertile stillness but am aware that it is available always and that my life is a dance that is constantly emerging from it, sometimes difficult and sometimes graceful. It is my source and the source of all that is. I trip over words for it...God, The Great Mystery, The Divine. I treasure its ineffable quality. It is available so easily to children who do not have the annoying boundaries of reason and fact and intellect. I can remember being a weird kid sitting in the tops of trees and lying under bushes on sweet warm days just being. I was a dreamy careless child, often late, losing and tripping over things. I still love to just wander and let my mind go. I forget to return calls, check email, buy eggs. I have a routine with the animals and fortunately do not forget them. I love just hanging out in my life so I guess I am emerging today as a dreamy, careless old woman but what a lovely gift those few minutes of unplanned meditation in the spring mist this morning.