This was a dialogue I had within myself as I sat at the cabin window this morning. I ask you, dear reader, who is it that dialogues within the body, within the soul?:
Out in the garden the untrained eye sees peace and tranquility. Is that all there is out there? The mind says Look!
I see how the chard pushes out the kale. The Scrub jay hunts the Sparrow's chick. The black spot stains the tender green tomato leaf. The mole hollows out the new potato. The mind retorts: Peace, really? I speak with the thoughts. I say: Yes, there is some peace. But there is more fire raging out there than the morning mists show.Such is life. Right?
Now the mind says Look again!
I see the purple swallow pirouetting in a cloud of blue. A sunflower, taller than shed, redder than the sunset, is sheltering a weaving spider. The carrots are waving like sea grass above their treasure of golden swords. The earth wafts a perfume of loam and dew, heady with all the lives that live within its dark womb.
See the darkness ebb at dawn? See the daylight fall like leaves all around the rising full moon?
And I saw for moments: This world and its mysterious ways were no longer good or bad... only ruthless in its beauty. Mysterious and Wondrous.
Then I looked one more time. Then, even the words and description fell away.
What do you see out your window today? And what stories do you weave about the little moments of time that filter through your view? What are we really experiencing here, gentle reader? And who is sharing this view with us?
(c) Richard Sievers, Words and Image, June 2014, All Rights Reserved.