Tuesday, March 15, 2011
the resplendent swamps of march
There is so much despair in the world today. There are too many images of loss and fear. I have to turn away. I have to protect the spirit within me that knows there is more unbounded beauty and life than anything else. So, I went to the swamps, the cold and thawing swamps of March, resplendent with noise and wings.
It is my yearly ritual on the cusp of spring to stand before the joyful noise of Canada geese and blackbirds. Despite the cold, they are urgent. They know, on deeper levels than I will ever know, their purpose. I go to listen and I go to be consumed by the glory of wise commotion.
The color of old corn, the white and the blue~ the palette of almost-spring~ is the perfect backdrop, the perfect stage for incoming life. In that palette, on that stage a quiet, yet no less urgent player emerged. A beaver. My first one, almost up close, eating and swimming, eating and swimming, reminding me I, too, have purpose. Despite my love of all things winged, of lofty ideals and of stars, the beaver reminded me the way to go beyond the ideas of loss and fear is to be grounded and practical and acutely tuned to the care of myself. The beaver reminded, as well, that for me to fly in this world and to know its unbounded beauty requires a walk and a swim to begin.