2010-It has been snowing copious amounts to the north and west of us but, except for the top of High Point Mountain, we have had no accumulation. The air has been filled, sun and cloud, with myriads of solitary flakes drifting lazily down. Now that the garage painting is done I have started my winter reservoir walks. On the past few frigid days I feel like bundling up and going out into it is the last thing I want to do, but I force myself and I’m always glad. Being properly dressed puts you in right relation to the cold and you no longer have to shrink from it. And the walk itself, time after time, puts me into an alternate consciousness where the beauty out there is something I can feel and not just see. True as that is, everyday I need to force myself to do it as if the person in charge is not the same as the person who goes out.
Yesterday a small hawk mysteriously flew into the bathroom window and stunned himself though ultimately proved unhurt. It’s an odd little out of the way corner behind a shrub and hard to figure out how he came to be flying into it except possibly diving after one of the little feeder birds. How unexpected reality is and we seem always to be crashing into it.
2011-Warm weather.
In some Decembers
Like a well banked fire, autumn
Continues to burn.
The frosty mornings melt away;
The afternoons recall May.
I’d thought the shortest day was 9 hours and fifteen minutes up here in Olivebridge, but this morning was 9hours 10. And more than two weeks still to go.
2012-In the course of five years of regular morning meditation done in the spirit of ‘for its own sake’ and not for gain, I do feel a kind of accomplishment. While actually in meditation I’m aware of a circle of deep peace and a kind of gratitude/contentment coming fairly regularly and seeming without much effort. As I mentioned a few days ago, my walks at the reservoir bring similar feelings. I’m entertaining a vision of these little puddles of awareness ring up to run together and engulf me completely. And then other people’s puddles rising up to join mine until we are all engulfed. I like to think that’s how it will happen.
Scissors, paper, rock.
Cloud takes the mountain away--
Wind then brings it back.
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